The Isle of Lewis
by elinaz
Summary: Harry Potter and Severus Snape undertake a long and perilous journey to bury the Dark Lord's body.  Can they complete their mission without killing each other?  More importantly, can they keep the corpse from wandering off? Translation, original by valley
1. Chapter 1

**This is a translation of a story written in Russian by _valley_. The original story ****«Остров Льюис» ****is archived at **_snapetales . com /all . php?fic_id=2238. _**The translation is made with the permission of the author.**

**Translator's note:**

**The story is set just after the events of the Half-Blood Prince and disregards all the events of the Deathly Hallows, with the exception of the fact that Harry has defeated Voldemort.**

**The story also switches abruptly between omniscient third person narration and first person narration from Harry Potter's point of view, and drifts between different scenes, settings, plots, dreams and reality without warning. I wished to preserve this unusual aspect of the story in my translation, but to make it easier for readers to follow I have used dividing lines to let you know that something has changed and italics for Harry's internal monolog. That's the only clues you get, though! Stay sharp and read on, my friends. I promise you, it's worth it. ;-)**

**Just before you plunge into the story let me thank**** my betas whose help has greatly improved the language of this story – Belana, Eloriana Gatts, and Kiki Cabou. Of course, all remaining errors are my own, especially because sometimes I did not heed their advice. **

**Disclaimer:****The author does not own any of it. Obviously, neither does the translator.**

* * *

_Let cheer and joy of gatherings past be our light when darkness comes..._

_Mikhail Isakovsky, "In the Frontline Forest"_

* * *

Full of dark premonitions, Professor Snape groped his way down the long unlit corridor, exasperated by the miserable shrillness of the door bell. Snape thrust the door open, cutting the bell short. The muzzle of a gun was jabbed into his forehead.

"Have you gone barking mad, Potter?" Snape asked with all the contempt he could muster, and the gun fired.

Abruptly sitting up in bed, the professor stared at the darkness in horror and gulped for air.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Harry mumbled indistinctly, turning to his other side and stealing the blanket. "So little time left..."

* * *

The snowfall in London immediately prompted the Daily Prophet to run another large article about Voldemort's death. I had just begun to read it in earnest when Hermione grabbed my paper and said that the article was complete rubbish and the death of a single wizard, even the Dark Lord, couldn't have affected the climate of the whole country. Ron argued back and I hurried to leave them alone. I hate their bickering.

It was cold in Hogwarts even for December, but with the cheerful mood reigning in the school it was impossible to think about it. I caught the Snitch in our first game against Ravenclaw, and Hermione proclaimed it "a symbol of peace." I didn't want to break my settled routine of lessons and Quidditch practices, which helped me to not think about some very unpleasant things. But after two days of carrying a note in my pocket, I sadly realized that there was no other choice. I had received it right in the Great Hall during breakfast … from the only person still wanted by the Ministry.

_**"The body must be buried, or it will never be over.**_

_**The Half-Blood Prince"**_

I knew very well why he chose to sign like that. Honestly, did he take me for an idiot? And why did he contact me at all? He expected _me_ to bury the body, did he? Hah.

I fumed for a couple of days but still hesitated to throw the note away. I even questioned Draco Malfoy. The conversation deeply disturbed me.

"What does your father say?"

"He's glad to be home."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"It's like it was the last time..." Draco whispered miserably, throwing a quick look around. "He is alive."

Could Dumbledore have been wrong? Could there be more than seven Horcruxes? Voldemort could've made as many of them as he wished. He might have even created one before his death. Or two, or... but no, it was not possible. I had a gut feeling that there were no more of them.

It wasn't easy to get an appointment with Scrimgeour, and without Professor McGonagall accompanying me I doubt he would have talked to me. I just told her that it was really important that I meet the Minister, and she didn't ask any questions.

"Why are you delaying the burial?"

Clearly, he was surprised by my question, but he quickly composed himself and adopted the sweet patronizing countenance he always used with me after I had finally disposed of Voldemort.

"We shall set up a special room at the Ministry, Harry. A mausoleum where the body will be heavily guarded, and..."

"What?"

Merlin's beard, they weren't going to bury him at all...

"You should not worry about it anymore, Harry." Scrimgeour patted me on the shoulder condescendingly. "The Ministry has everything under control."

"He must be buried, sir. Put in the ground."

"No, he must not. The people need to feel that they are safe. Now any wizard will be able to come and make sure that..."

I stopped listening to him. Why did Snape write to me? Did he think that _I_ was the person who had to finish this job?

And how was I supposed to persuade Scrimgeour?

"Harry, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall asked me quietly when we left the Minister's office. "Where did you get these funny ideas?"

"I don't like the corpse not being buried, professor."

"Surely you realize that if the corpse is underground and not guarded, then the Death Eaters might try..."

"To resurrect him?"

So that's what Snape wanted!

I should have given his note to the Minister. I stopped, staring in hesitation at the light-coloured walls of the Ministry corridor and thinking that I had better return. Then I recalled my talk with Malfoy, remembered how scared he was, and decided not to hurry.

That evening I told my friends about the note and my visit to Scrimgeour.

"Snape's barmy. _And_ a traitor," said Ron.

"I don't like this preservation business," said Hermione doubtfully. "Corpses are supposed to rot."

"Muggle prejudices," snorted Ron, and I regretted having told them anything at all.

On the whole, Ron was of the same mind as Professor McGonagall, while Hermione got very distressed. But both agreed that I should show Snape's letter if not to the Minister, then at least to the headmistress.

I can't explain what prevented me from following their advice. Instead, I was pondering whether Malfoy was deceiving me. Draco certainly did not want another resurrection of the Dark Lord. He had suffered enough at the hands of the previous reincarnation, which was now awaiting a personal mausoleum at the Ministry.

_Right,_I thought, _Scrimgeour is an idiot_... _But the corpse definitely must be guarded_...

Still undecided, I went to bed and lay there awake for a long time.

_I shouldn't listen to Snape. He is a traitor and murderer. Ron is right. He's just a mad killer._

I recalled that Fudge explained away the behaviour of Barty Crouch Jr. by madness and turned on my side.

* * *

Standing in the snow up to his knees, Dumbledore held a spade out to me.

"Bury him, Harry, bury him."

"Muggle prejudices," snorted Snape appearing out of nowhere. "Headmaster, I am sure he could not use a spade to save his life. Have you forgotten what a first-rate dunderhead and loafer he's always been?"

"My memory is as good as ever, Severus." Dumbledore shoved the spade into a snowdrift and peered at me compassionately. "Do you really not know how to dig, Harry?"

"Why would you think that?" I felt hurt. "I know how to dig perfectly well! I dig over the Dursleys' garden every year."

"You see, Severus," the headmaster said, turning to Snape, "he knows."

"I have my doubts. There is no garden here, is there?"

They looked around, but, of course, there was no garden. We were standing in a snow-covered forest, and there was not a living soul around. Even the birds were silent. Suddenly, I was in the snowdrift, freezing and trapped.

"He'll kill you," I said loudly to Dumbledore and made to approach them, struggling to get out of the snowdrift.

"Harry, stay where you are!" shouted the headmaster.

"Don't move, Potter!" snarled Snape, whipping out his wand.

I dashed to reach Dumbledore, fell down, and woke up.

_What a silly dream_...

I got up, put my clothes on without a sound, stuffed the Invisibility Cloak in my pocket, and left for the common room. It was half past three in the morning and beastly cold. I was hungry.

Grumbling, the Fat Lady opened the entrance for me and I headed to the stairs, putting on my Invisibility Cloak. Of course, these days I could always tell Filch to get lost even if I ran into him, but why give Malfoy another excuse to gibe in the Great Hall about the arrogant Boy Who Won? Blast him.

Having had my fill of walking and frozen nearly to death, I was late for breakfast. Ron and Hermione were already at the table, both looking extremely pinched. I saw at once that they'd had another row.

"Harry," whispered Ron, "You've got another letter."

"From whom?" I hadn't caught on immediately why he was whispering, but Hermione tugged me by the robe and I dropped down on the bench.

"Here it is," Ron thrust a crumpled piece of parchment in my left hand. "We didn't read it. Although..."

"Read it right away," Hermione whispered in my right ear.

I opened the letter.

_**"What did Scrimgeour tell you?"**_

"What does he take me for?"

Well, perhaps I was too loud. It got quiet and everyone stared at me. I jumped up and hurried to the owlery, trying not to run.

* * *

_**"You are a coward, a traitor, and a murderer, and they'll catch you and send you to Azkaban - just because I hate you!"**_

It was the fourth answer and for the fourth time I burned it with my wand.

Why, why did Scrimgeour free the Death Eaters who attacked us at the Ministry a year and a half ago? First it was, "We cannot detain them." Then it was, "There is no evidence." I even began to suspect that he was even more afraid of the Order of the Phoenix than of those masked bastards. Of course, all this was their fault. And Snape was with them. Everyone who managed to avoid Azkaban fifteen years ago had succeeded in doing so again, and Bellatrix Lestrange was still on the run. Merlin only knew what really went on. Dumbledore was gone, and there was no one left to give me advice.

_If I reply to him, we'll have a correspondence. If I don't reply, he won't leave me alone. But maybe ... maybe I can capture him. If he wants my attention so badly, well, I don't mind._

_**"Scrimgeour will not bury the corpse.**_

_**HP"**_

* * *

I prepared for the meeting thoroughly. To be precise, I came to the Shrieking Shack three hours before the time we had agreed on. If anything went wrong, I would simply kill him. And, unlike him, I had the Invisibility Cloak.

Snape was sleeping in a torn-up chair. Had he spent the night there? I stood there contemplating whether to wake him or tie him up first. Did he despise me so much that he didn't take even basic security precautions? Wasn't he afraid I would bring Aurors?

"No," he said and opened his eyes.

Panicked, I sprang back and pointed my wand at him. He couldn't see through the Invisibility Cloak, I knew for sure. He couldn't. So what the hell had happened?

"Your hood fell down, Potter," he smirked. "Put your wand away. As you can see, I am alone."

"So why are your friends hiding?" I asked him just to make the situation clear.

"Are you confusing me with your cowardly father, Potter?"

"You're a traitor and a murderer! I'll turn you in to the Aurors!"

"Potter, do you remember that you were going to kill Sirius Black, being absolutely certain that he was guilty of your parents' deaths?"

I took a breath.

"Pettigrew fooled everyone!"

"That's not what I am asking you. Do you remember or not?"

"I suppose I do."

"And now you wish to kill me."

It seemed like ages since I had hated Sirius. But it was only four years.

"I saw you kill Dumbledore!"

"And many others witnessed Sirius Black kill thirteen people. On the basis of that evidence he was found guilty."

"Don't you dare mention Sirius! You, of all people, were overjoyed when he was sent to Azkaban!"

"I don't deny that. He should have been sent there when he was born."

"Shut up!"

"Since you are here, Potter, sit down."

I didn't move. "What do you want from me? And I warn you now that I won't believe a word you say. Do you have any plausible explanation for what happened at the Astronomy Tower?"

"That's none of your business, Potter."

"Then what do you want?"

"The corpse must be buried. The Dark Lord can return unless his body is put in the ground."

"And when it is in the ground, your friends will have a great opportunity to dig it out and resurrect it, right?"

"Does your question really call for an answer?"

"Stop baiting me!"

"After the first time, Dumbledore was very upset by the disappearance of Tom Riddle's body. The _Avada Kedavra_ that bounced off your forehead could not have reduced the body to nothing."

"How dare you mention Dumbledore!"

"Potter, do you really believe that I enjoy talking to you?"

"No, I don't, and I don't believe you expect me to trust you, either."

"The headmaster thought that you'd feel it if the Dark Lord disappeared for good. What would you say?"

I felt nothing now, but I wasn't about to tell him that. "Show me your Dark Mark."

Silently, he rolled up his left sleeve. The Dark Mark was there, just like the Draco Malfoy's. Faint, but visible.

"And you... can you Apparate to him?"

"No. It was possible only when he called us."

"And you think that if the corpse is buried..."

"Not just buried, Potter. It should be buried in a very specific fashion. You saw his resurrection; his body was not the body of a normal human. Scrimgeour is an idiot not to understand the danger of a body that exhibits no signs of decay a month after death."

"I thought... they'd already embalmed him."

It hadn't occurred to me that the corpse should have already rotted away...

"And how exactly did you arrive at this brilliant conclusion?"

I decided to ignore his rudeness. Surely, he was merely winding me up. Well, I would let him try. I wasn't eleven any more. Not even fifteen.

"I repeat one more time, the body must be buried," he said after a pause.

"And you think that I should do it?"

"It would be desirable."

Is it what he had meant when he said "buried in a very specific fashion"?

"Fine, I'll bury it."

After all, it wouldn't be impossible to steal the corpse from the Ministry with Ron and Hermione's help and then bury it somewhere in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. If we asked Hagrid to help and show us the most inaccessible spots, no Death Eaters would ever find the grave.

"He'll escape," Snape said quietly in a tone that gave me shivers.

"What do you mean, 'escape'? Escape where?"

"You killed him on Halloween, again. And it was a new moon."

"So what?"

"He must be buried at a full moon."

Well, we would sort that out. At a full moon? So be it. _And Hermione will soon find out everything about your secret motives._

"Fine," I said with false indifference. "I'll bury him at a full moon. I just hope he doesn't need an aspen coffin."

"N-no," replied Snape thoughtfully. "Definitely not an aspen one. I think a coffin of holly would be just the thing."

Actually, I was joking. Why did he need a coffin at all? He'd be fine as he was.

"The full moon is in nine days, Potter."

"Scrimgeour won't give the body away."

"Of course he won't."

Suddenly it occurred to me that if it was not an issue for us to steal the corpse from the Ministry, it should be at least as easy for Snape and his mates. But then, what did he want from me?

"The corpse should be buried at a full moon," Snape said dryly and stood up. I tensed involuntarily. "In a place he will not be able to escape. It is best that you bury him, and it is advisable to keep it secret from everybody."

"Do you have a particular place in mind?"

"Yes. It's the only one in England. The Celts used it as a cemetery for a while. Stonehenge. Have you heard about it?"

Of course I had. "Why there?"

"The magic of life and the magic of death are destroyed there; they pass off into nothingness and can do no more harm to either the living or the dead."

"There are herds of tourists!"

"During the night?"

"Probably!"

"Are you a wizard, Potter, or not?"

I decided not to ask him how he had come to know all that. If I believed, just for a moment, that he was telling the truth, I had to take him with me. Not Hermione, but him, the Dark Arts enthusiast who knew how magic could pass off into nothingness. Surely the corpse couldn't be just buried in a hole. "In a very specific fashion" couldn't mean simply digging out a pit. Maybe he should lie with his feet to the north or, conversely, to the south...

After all, I was long used to the fact that dealing with Voldemort was my destiny. And Snape, who'd been arguing for six years that I was always sticking my nose into something that was not my concern, who told me during our Occlumency lessons that it was his job, Snape came to me, convinced that it was I who had to bury this corpse.

_Very well. Then I'll turn you in to Aurors after we're done. They'll find out whether I saw you murdering the only person who trusted you, or if I'm as mistaken as those passers-by who witnessed Sirius killing thirteen Muggles. But don't even hope that I'll trust you blindly._

"Do you really believe that I'll agree to go anywhere with you?"

"You've come here."

"Well... if you swear not to cause me any harm..."

He looked at me with such loathing that I recoiled from him.

"Potter, I swear that I'll make you bury that filthy creature," he hissed with bloodcurdling malice, "even if I have to bury you with him. I fail to see much difference between you."

"I don't care for the opinion of a cowardly murderer!" I spat. "Or do you think I'm more like Voldemort than you are? Maybe it's _me_ who wears the Dark Mark?"

"Shut up, Potter!"

"Make me. I dare you."

We were standing there with our wands pointed at each other, panting. He didn't even try to conceal his hatred for me, and that was just as well, since he wouldn't have been able to, anyway.

He wouldn't give me an oath. No matter, I wasn't afraid of him. I was always stronger. He was just an evil, spiteful failure of a wizard.

_Let him just try to attack me. I defeated Voldemort and Snape won't scare me. Dumbledore died not because he was weaker, but because he trusted this bastard. I won't make that mistake. I'd __sooner__ die than trust him._

* * *

The next day I went to Hagrid.

"Are there holly trees in the Forbidden Forest?" I asked him after half an hour of taking tea with him.

"Oh, yeah. Wha' do yeh need em for?"

"Will you show me?"

I'm a lousy carpenter, but whatever. We took the coffin with us to the Ministry, and I hid it behind the fountain, just in case we met someone. It was the middle of the night but I wanted to be on the safe side.

Quite unexpectedly, in the corridor we ran into someone, who happened to be Mr. Weasley. I didn't even notice where he came from.

"Harry? What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"

"Half past three?" I asked just to say something.

"Half past three." He stopped abruptly because at that moment Snape turned round the corner dragging Voldemort's corpse to the staircase.

"Snape!" Mr. Weasley shouted and pushed me aside, rushing forward and pulling out his wand.

For the first time in my life, I Stunned a person in his back. A person very dear to me. And he'll always know that I attacked him.

"Are you stuck there, Potter?"

Snape was calling me, but I couldn't leave Mr. Weasley just lying there. I couldn't. Nobody knew what was going to happen to us, which made it all the worse; I had to tell him.

"I want to tie him up," I said to Snape feeling somewhat unsure of my decision.

Snape let Voldemort down, and the corpse's head fell on the stair with a dull thud.

"Why?"

"Never mind why, just come here!"

Reluctantly, he approached me. "He'll be found in the morning. Let's go, Potter."

"No, I don't want to leave him like that. We'll have to tie him up."

He shrugged and, after producing a few black cords with his wand, he gave it a flick and they magicked themselves around Mr. Weasley's wrists. Snape returned to the corpse of his former master.

I pointed my wand at Mr. Weasley and said, "_Rennervate_!"

"Harry, what are you doing? Are you mad?"

I did not want Snape to hear us, so I waited for him to disappear from sight.

"Harry, let me go!"

"No, I can't. And it'll be better for you this way when it gets out you were here tonight."

"What was Snape dragging with him?"

I wasn't sure that I should explain, and I knew we were in a hurry.

"We ... we're taking Voldemort's body away."

"_What?_ Why?"

"Everyone knows that he's not dead for good," I blabbered, staring at the floor, "but Scrimgeour will never agree..."

"Harry, what does Snape want with the body? Do you realize what you are doing? The Death Eaters want to resurrect him! Untie me immediately!"

"No, we'll bury the body and it'll finally be over."

"What makes you think he'll let you bury the body?"

"I'll ... just have to take the chance. I know about the necromancy."

"What?"

"I ... Hermione told me about it. Anyways, we'll bury the corpse for good even if Snape has a different plan in mind."

"Stop this nonsense! If he attacks you, you'll never get the better of him!"

"You think so?" I got an unpleasant feeling in my chest.

He was worried about me. He had forgotten that I killed the wretch who scared everybody so much that they refused to mention his name for twenty years.

"I'm sorry. I should go." I took off my cloak, rolled it up and put it under his head. "Is there anyone else here? Can I just leave you without silencing you?"

He nodded and, without glancing back, I ran to catch up with Snape.

"Why are you dragging him? You could levitate him."

"I shouldn't," he grunted. "I hope you've solved all your moral and ethical problems and will finally help me."

Together we could move faster, and in the Entrance Hall I fetched the coffin hidden behind the fountain. Quietly we put the body inside and fixed the lid. We had to leave that place as soon as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a translation of a story written in Russian by _valley_. The original story ****«Остров Льюис» ****is archived at **_snapetales . com /all . php?fic_id=2238. _**The translation is made with the permission of the author.**

**Translator's note: ********This story would never have been posted if not for the immense help of my betas, Belana and Kiki Cabou. Of course, all remaining errors are my own, especially because sometimes I did not heed their advice.**

******The previous chapter has been somewhat edited since it was first posted. **

**Disclaimer: ****The author does not own any of it. Obviously, neither does the translator.**

**

* * *

**

The doorbell was ringing in the distance, the noise so shrill that it threatened to burst his skull. All of a sudden the corridor ran into a wall, the professor stopped, and the muzzle of a gun was jabbed into his forehead.

"Go to hell, Potter," Snape moaned.

The sound of the gunshot blended with the distant peal somewhere behind and the professor opened his eyes.

"Are you ill?" Harry asked indifferently. For lack of anything better to do, he was paring down a yew branch with a blunt penknife.

"I'm fine. You'd best lie down yourself. I shall stand guard."

With these words, the Potions Master unceremoniously snatched the penknife from Harry's hand and threw the branch into the smoldering fire.

* * *

"Walking is our only option, Potter. Do you realize what's going on at the Ministry now? If we use magic, they'll find us immediately."

It turned out that dragging a coffin was incredibly inconvenient, especially through snow. In addition to being heavy, it was leaving a unique trail that was making me uneasy. I knew it made Snape uneasy too, but I didn't expect him to acknowledge it.

By dawn we had left London, and by eleven in the morning we were entering a small town. I was hungry, sleepy, and very cold because I'd left my cloak in the Ministry.

"You need a jacket, Potter, and a spade."

These were the first words he said after declaring that we would have to manage without magic.

"I don't have any money on me…"

"I do, although it is not a lot."

"Could we have some breakfast?"

He removed a few pounds from the pocket of his black buttoned up coat and held them out for me.

"Go ahead; I'll find us a spade. Meet me on the outskirts of town in an hour."

I bought a loaf of bread and was sitting on the coffin, nipping the loaf bit by bit. I couldn't just walk into a café with such a thing, and I didn't dare leave it unguarded.

Snape arrived at noon on the dot with a spade and a large sack. Silently we dragged the coffin from the road to a small stand of trees and set about examining the sack's content. First he gave me a used black jacket and a chequered Scottish scarf that had seen better days.

I was sceptical. "Did you steal these?" The spoils were hardly top quality, though I had to admit that they looked very decent compared to the Dudley's old things.

"A brilliant guess, Potter. Get dressed."

While I was putting on the jacket, Snape opened the sack. He pulled out a large hank of cord, an axe, a hammer, an electric torch, a bag of nails and… three metal wheels. For several moments I stared stupidly at the wheels, and then it hit me, and I began laughing like a madman.

"I… I won't tow a wheeled coffin! You've gone barking mad!" I was almost breathless with laughter.

Snape wasn't nearly as amused as I was. "Do you want to drag it as it is, all seventy miles?" he groused.

I waved him off. "Let's head to the road and hitch a ride. I don't think it'll be very expensive."

He got up from the coffin, on which he was sitting while sorting through the stuff in the sack, and gave me a newspaper he had pulled out of his coat pocket.

Our faces stared at me from the first page. Even small and blurry, it was undeniably us.

"Wait a minute," I stopped laughing abruptly. "Isn't this a regular newspaper? I mean, a Muggle one?"

"Another brilliant observation. Potter, you never cease to amaze me."

This was horrible. I folded the newspaper slowly without reading the article. There was no need.

"You should not have babbled to Arthur Weasley," said Snape scowling with distaste. "Now, because of that, we cannot return to the road. Did you tell him where we were going?"

"No."

"Impressive foresight. Pick up the hammer and get to work. Surely, seventy miles of forest will turn out to be eighty, or even ninety."

"They'll be looking for us…"

"Of course, they'll be looking for us. And not only Aurors. The news of the corpse's theft has been publicized. Everyone knows about it, or Scrimgeour would not have found it necessary to involve Muggle police."

At that moment it occurred to me for the first time that he was not deceiving me. The Death Eaters released from Azkaban, various loonies ... anyone who wanted to lay their hands on this corpse could be after us now. Anyone.

I attached the wheels, though I could not see how they might be useful in the winter forest.

"We are lucky, Potter, that you are prone to exaggeration." Snape smirked as he placed the spade, axe and hammer, the rest of the cord, the nails and his untouched half loaf of bread into the coffin, which was indeed a bit too wide for its lanky occupant.

"Won't we get lost?"

"Move on," he replied darkly.

_Merlin's socks, eighty miles! _

I took the cord and dragged the coffin through the snow into the forest. Snape walked behind me and raised it when its wheels caught on snags.

_I won't last long. We leave traces. Surely, they'll find us. If not Aurors, then someone else will. What __made me __get into this mess? I've done what I was to do in October. The corpse of this bastard is not my concern!_

Clunk!

The front wheel was forlornly lying in the snow. Automatically, I pulled out my wand and said _Reparo_ before remembering that I shouldn't have used magic. I looked at Snape defiantly.

_One __word and you will drag it yourself!_

Apparently, he did not want to drag the coffin, for he silently nodded me to go ahead.

_Eighty miles, six days till the full moon. We have to walk, eat something, sleep somewhere and… we can't sleep, what am I thinking? We have to guard the coffin, and I can't leave this duty to Snape. That bastard would just run off with it, and then what? Even right now he can easily stun me from behind. Why did I agree to go with him? What if he wants to perform some ritual so that the red-eyed monster can possess me like he tried to do in my fifth year, at the Ministry? But even then he couldn't do it properly. In my first year he could possess Quirrell only with the man's permission..._

Clunk!

"Potter! Just use some care, will you!"

"I'm tired! Drag it yourself!"

Snape gave me a murderous look, took off the lid, removed the hammer from the coffin, and struggled for almost half an hour to reattach the broken wheel. Finally he gave up.

I finished my bread and suggested using a wand.

"No," he muttered.

"But I've already used magic."

"We were close to a town with a wizarding population. Otherwise they'd have already found us. Here, we are alone. It is too dangerous."

I looked around. Snow and tree branches were spidery in the evening dusk. It was so similar to my recent dream… but of course, Dumbledore was not here. I was alone, standing in the middle of the forest with my headmaster's murderer and the corpse of the Dark Lord.

It scared me.

"Can't we Apparate right there? Just once."

Snape shook his head. "We'll be discovered immediately. If anyone finds out where we bury him, it cannot be helped later. We cannot take the risk."

He made one last attempt to nail the wheel, missed the nail's head, let off a curse, spat in the snow, and rose to his feet.

Actually, it was his turn. I'd been dragging it all day.

When it got completely dark, I realized my body was demanding rest. Without sleep I'd die right then and there. I couldn't guard anything. I dropped myself onto the coffin lid and went out like a light.

I woke up in the morning and, having no reason to be embarrassed of Snape who was sitting afar on a fallen tree, I pulled off the lid to check that the corpse was still there. It looked no worse than yesterday and, perhaps even a bit better.

_Maybe Snape's replaced it…_

Or it might have been my paranoia.

I closed the coffin and approached my companion. Apparently, he was not merely sitting there but was studying a map lying on the ground.

"We went somewhat astray yesterday." He looked up at me, indifferent as usual. "Are you ready?"

I was glad that he said something. He could just indicate the direction with a gesture, as he'd done yesterday.

It was a very difficult day. Painstakingly, we bypassed towns and villages and did not dare to show our faces on the road, plodding along its side instead. By midday I rebelled, declaring that I was hungry and would not make another step. The reason was another village that we had to skirt around, so no one would notice us. It was quite a detour. The crate I had assembled could be recognized as a coffin only by a person with wild imagination, especially given that it had wheels, but I could not forget yesterday's paper and did not want to do something stupid.

Snape hissed that this time he would go shopping, lest I again buy bread and gobble it with the dirty snow on the side.

_Very well then._ Anyway, I was reluctant to leave him alone with the coffin. During the night I'd been sleeping on top of the prize. He could not get to the corpse unless he killed me, and I was still alive, so...

I was cold and hungry. I got to my feet and began jumping around the coffin first on one foot, then on the other, then on both, and when I finally got bored I applied myself to making a snowman. But there was too little snow, so the sculpture was rather dirty. I walked off a bit to get a better look and found that it was skewed, as if it was trying to lean toward the coffin.

"From a distance it looks like the corpse has climbed out." I jumped. Snape had come up behind me without a sound. I turned. He was holding a paper bag and peering down at my work.

"There's no likeness at all!"

"They certainly have the same complexion. Let's go."

_Wait, what about breakfast?_

But Snape had already grasped the cord and began to drag the coffin forward, without looking back, having apparently no intention to share the contents of the bag with me.

For the last time I glanced at my lopsided sculpture that seemed to be bowing Snape goodbye and following him with its gaze. Jumping up, I plucked a bunch of scarlet rowan berries and set two in the general area of the snowman's forehead. Then it occurred to me that I hadn't given it a nose. Snape was right; with the new additions and accidental omission, the snowman bore some resemblance to the Dark Lord...

"Potter!"

I recalled that Snape was carrying a paper bag and ran to catch up with him, eager for breakfast.

"What have you bought?" I looked inside the bag, curious.

There were two loaves of bread. And nothing else.

I was mightily disappointed.

"All the stores were closed." He shrugged, and looked almost honestly ashamed for not bringing something better. "It's a holiday."

I slumped on the coffin and dug into a loaf. The disappointment evaporated.

_After all, it makes no difference, just a couple of days. Well, not a couple, perhaps, three or four. Piece of cake. _

I didn't know whether he'd slept last night, but I thought not, because I'd slept it away and we were both afraid to leave our treasure unguarded, so I said, "Let me stay on guard now, and I'll wake you later."

Silently, he lay down on the uneven surface of the coffin lid, folded his arms on his chest because there was no other place for them, and closed his eyes. Pallid, dressed in all black, with his eyes closed ... Snape looked like he was having his own funeral.

_Hmmm. One corpse inside, another on top…. _

And it should have been more comfortable to lie on one's back, which I, like an idiot, had not realized the night before. Lying on my side, either my knees or my arse hung off the edge uncomfortably without purchase. Unlike me, Snape fell asleep immediately, and I don't think he was pretending.

By nightfall there were snowdrifts all around, but I was still glad that we had reached the forest again because spending the night by the road was exposed and dangerous. It kept snowing, and I was trying to make out the stars in the night sky, but it was very cold, and stargazing could not distract me for long. My feet ached, and I began looking for a place to sit down. Then for a place to rest my head. Then to lie down. The thought that it was time to wake up Snape and that I should do it right now must have come to me just before I finally fell asleep, but I cannot be sure. I found a very comfortable stump surrounded by bushes.

It was dark when I woke up, and at first I could not understand what had roused me. Then I heard quiet voices that sounded very close and immediately I rolled behind the bush. Neither Snape nor the coffin were where I had left them.

_That's it then. He took the corpse, and the voices… He was not alone!_

With frozen fingers I searched for my wand in the pocket but it was not there. Everything was clear, except for one thing – why was I still alive? But then, on the other hand, I could not escape…

_And they told me, they warned me, both McGonagall and Mr. Weasley!_

_If they resurrect him…_

I bent low and slowly moved towards the voices. I could not leave it like that. At least I had to see what was happening.

There was a fire in a small clearing, and in its light I saw that all my worst suspicions had come true. Voldemort stood by the fire, pensively peering at wizards in cloaks and masks who were chaotically moving in front of him. The snow was well-trodden all around.

There was a rustle behind me, and I turned around expecting to see one more masked figure, but it was Snape, and he had no mask.

_But if he was not with them ... I had just let them steal the corpse while I was sleeping!_

"Merlin's beard!" the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange sounded hysterical. "Why isn't he talking?"

I turned but at that moment Snape forcefully pushed my head down, and I realized that I'd risen above the snowdrift so high that even my shoulders could be seen. He went on pulling me by my jacket, and together we rolled down into a narrow hollow.

"Don't even think about it," he breathed in my ear.

"We won't find him later!"

"Yes, we will," he said quietly. "You idiot, where do you think you are hurrying? Have you seen how many of them there are?"

"I don't care!"

"About what?"

"I don't care about their numbers! I won't let…"

Abruptly he clamped a hand over my mouth and, pressing with his whole body, crushed me into the ground. I jerked but calmed down immediately when I heard a low muffled voice above me, "Here they are."

Snape froze, and I felt my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach.

_They'll kill us right now… Is that why he lay down on me? I was shouting too loudly. What have I done?... Maybe he should… if it occurs to him… he could tell them that he caught me… for them…_

"We will not go there now. Later, when they calm down," the first voice was replied to by a very hoarse baritone.

I frowned. _They're not talking about us… Then who?.._

Hardly breathing, Snape was still lying on me and clamping my mouth without loosening his grip.

_All right, I'll keep quiet. 'Course, I'll be extra quiet if you _suffocate_ me..._

But I suspected that if I kept twitching he'd just tighten his grip, so we kept still and lay there listening to the two voices. They were probably discussing Bellatrix, who was rushing about the clearing in a frenzy.

"Such a temper," rang the low voice of the first speaker.

"Too gaunt," seconded the hoarse one.

"She is a hysteric, like all of them."

"No, Bob. I knew a bird who was twice as big as this one, and you dared to cross her, she'd shriek like a banshee."

"Enough chit-chat," they were abruptly interrupted by a third voice. "Judging by the description, that's the corpse. We'll get it after the nightfall. Now retreat."

I began to count seconds silently. When I was on six hundred, Snape relaxed his grip and began to slowly crawl off me.

_Was he also counting?_

"Do you know who they are?" I asked him after we had crept away down the ravine bottom and put a relatively safe distance between us and the clearing. "What do they want with the corpse?"

Silently, he pulled out the many times folded Daily Prophet from his left pocket and threw it to me.

_Why does he never speak to me? And I don't like his sarcastic grumble either!_

I took the newspaper and unfolded it, trying to make as little noise as possible…

"Fifty thousand galleons?"

"Potter, shut up!" he hissed.

This time I clamped my mouth with my own hand. Of course, I should not have shouted but I was too shocked by what I saw on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

"Has Scrimgeour gone mad?" I whispered frantically. "What was he thinking?"

"He needs the corpse," was the very curt reply.

"They should've offered a reward before! If Pettigrew'd brought him to the Ministry instead of the cemetery, so much misery would've been prevented."

"Yes, well, there's nothing we can do now. They tried to resurrect him and failed."

"How do you know that they failed? He _is_ standing there, in case you haven't noticed."

"It does not mean he is alive. We'll wait till morning. They'll decide what to do with the body and we shall act accordingly."

"We ought to return there and watch them."

He nodded, and we slowly made our way back.

There were no Death Eaters and no Voldemort in the clearing, only a smoking pile of burnt wooden planks.

"They've destroyed the coffin." I did not expect that this would upset me so much. "And give me back my wand! I know you took it. Why?"

"I did not have time to remove both you and your wand, and, anyway, you had no use for it. If you perform magic here, they'll find us at once."

"I'm not leaving without it!"

"Fine, but keep it safe and don't use it unless we are in a town."

He put his hand into a pocket of his coat and drew out a few pieces of wood. He swallowed, looking grim. I stared at the destruction.

_We're goners. Both of us. _

"It was an unlucky fall, Potter." He gave me a very odd look and dropped our former wands to the ground. "You are a natural at messing everything up, aren't you?"

My mouth dropped open. "Oh, I'm the klutz, am I? I see, so I was the one who stole your wand while you were sleeping, and then broke it to pieces together with my own!"

Snape looked sour. "If you hadn't gone to the clearing, I wouldn't have had to…"

"How dare you touch my wand."

"You volunteered to stay on guard!"

"That has nothing to do with this!" Once more I looked around the empty clearing. The camp fire was covered in snow. "They burnt down my coffin!"

"_Your_ coffin?" Snape was openly mocking me.

"Go to hell," I hissed at him, with the fleeting thought that a few days spent alone with Snape was all it took for me to adopt his manner of speech. "_You_'ll make a new one. I've bruised all my fingers for the last time!"

"If you say so," he smirked with contempt. "I'll get the coffin, and you get the corpse. Are you ready?"

I turned away from him and, without a word, followed the footprints left by the Death Eaters, all the while cursing him roundly in my head.

_Go to hell. I'll get by on my own! Burn my coffin ... I'll kill those bastards just for that! I bet those __maniacs couldn't knock together two planks of wood to build a box, for all their talent at destroying one. _

I groaned as I sank into the snow almost to my waist, and in anger thumped my fist against the ice. That was a bad idea. My hand struck a metal rod hiding underneath the surface, and I yelped.

_What sort of an idiot leaves something like that in a forest?_

"Sometime this century, Potter," I heard the hateful voice from above.

"I've injured my hand." It was incredibly difficult to turn to him.

"Don't you have another?"

"What?"

"Give me your other hand."

He pulled me out of the pit and, without a single look at my blooded right hand, walked off following the trail of footprints in the snow. I walked in his wake.

Bang! Horrible pain shot through my foot and with a smothered groan I fell in the snow.

_God, what was that? A wolf?... A bear?... A crocodile?..._

"A trap." He was already near, looking at me indifferently. "Your luck is spectacularly bad, Potter. It looks like you'll have to wait here till I fix a coffin, get the Dark Lord, transport and bury him. Then it will be your turn."

_My turn? For what, a burial? Damn, it hurts like hell..._

"Get lost," I spat.

"With pleasure." He smirked and walked away from me. He just went, like it was nothing, leaving me behind in a hunter's trap with an injured hand and a possibly broken leg, all alone in the forest on a cold winter's night. Frozen with fear, I watched his back and counted his steps mechanically. There was nothing else around to look at except for snow. At which step would he disappear? After which one would he dissolve in the darkness forever, and leave me here to die?

_It is so cold... Five, six, se… Bang! _

_Six. A trap had gotten him, too. _

Unlike me, he fell down in the snow without a sound. Not even trying to stand up, he hid his face in his hands and… shook.

_Is he… crying?_

I couldn't believe my eyes. Then he removed his hands from his face and turned to me. The bastard was laughing. I didn't see the humour.

"You know, you are a dangerous companion, Potter."

_I don't know if we'll ever get out of this forest, but I'll never forget that you wanted to leave me here. Murderer!_

He was struggling to free himself, working stubbornly, not recognizing the futility. I watched him, scared that he might succeed, because then he would walk away. It was early dawn; I couldn't feel pain any more. I probably wouldn't make it through the morning. Unbelievable - the git was still wriggling! I lay on my side, watching him indifferently, surprised that I was not asleep yet. I knew that if I'd fallen asleep then, it would have been the end. But I could not fall asleep. Instead I had a vision.

It was a thestral. It was shining among the trees, slowly approaching me, and I even rose up a bit in astonishment. A perfectly naked girl with shining, wanton white eyes was riding the thestral, obscenely sprawled on the animal's back. A veela or...? The translucent creature must have been a Patronus. It passed me slowly and approached Snape. With difficulty, he rose, resting on one knee, and the creature bent down and stroked his head with the lightest of touch.

_This must be one amazing hallucination, if Snape's having it too. I guess, it's caused by hunger..._

"What is it?" I cried weakly, not really hoping for an answer, which was just as well.

She was leaving. Leaving, slowly swaying on the thestral and still smiling, and, I confess, I was flushed with heat at her gaze. I could not tear my eyes from her. She was shining, opalescent, luring and filling my spent mind with ideas that one… could hardly expect in my situation.

I made a strenuous effort and turned to Snape. He was still down on one knee, also following her with his gaze and smiling. If he'd ever smiled like this – not at me, but just smiled – I would not have thought him to be as despicable as I always had.

Then he shook his head and grumpily called out to me.

"Stop staring, Potter! And unless you care to freeze to death, don't lie down."

"What was that?"

"Has your brain frozen? Who taught you Defense?"

"You did."

"And you cannot recognize a Patronus, can you?"

"Of course I can. But whose Patronus is it?"

"It's none of your business," he snapped, but without any real bite.

_Maybe, I am already dead and all Patronuses __here are just __like that. No! I don't want to be dead in a trap with only Snape for company!_

_If I am not dead and not asleep, and there is a living person with such a Patronus, then… we've been found! Snape's clearly very glad to see this… lady who didn't bother to cover up. And he was not surprised, so he knows her, which means…_

Then I stopped trying to puzzle it out. At that moment I forgot all about my pain. I wasn't even hungry any more. All instincts of my body were suppressed by an overpowering desire to know whose Patronus it was. I was prepared to struggle for my life to learn it .

I heard snow crunching behind, tried to turn and managed to hear the first sounds of the stunning spell.

_That's the end…_

It was my last conscious thought before I fell face down in the snow.

* * *

I woke up in a bed, quietly slid out from under the covers, and looked around. The room was large, but it bore the unmistakable signs of being in a provincial inn or a doss-house. There was a washstand in the corner and a lonely street-lamp glowed outside the small, dirty window. It was snowing.

_Well. No Snape, no coffin… Oh, but __t__he coffin __is here__. __S__tuck under the bed. But is Voldemort inside?_

I bent down and with difficulty pulled the coffin out from under the bed frame, getting a few splinters under my fingers along the way. Clearly, it was not empty, and for some reason the lid was nailed down. Besides, it was the same coffin that I had made in the Forbidden Forest.

_Right then, the Death Eaters were burning something else… __Blast__ it, I need to know what's going on here!_

I recalled that we had an axe. The sack with the instruments was lying on the floor behind the bed, and in a moment I had the axe blade in the groove under the coffin lid. A strong pull, a crack, and the lid was off.

And Voldemort rose from the coffin, to meet me face to face.

I was prepared to find anything else in the coffin. My worst fears were discovering bricks there, or the totally decomposed body of my enemy, or finding Snape dead in there, but even in my wildest dreams I would not have envisioned what really happened.

Horrified, I recoiled and landed on my back. The Dark Lord silently fell on me, seizing my neck in a death grip. Stunned, it took my brain a few moments to realize that this Voldemort did not want to talk to me, just like Snape. In his previous incarnation he would have told me about his grand schemes before trying to strangle me. But now it was straight on to the throttling.

The door banged open with a dull thud, and I managed to prise the dead fingers from my neck. Snape towered above me with the axe in his hands, his face contorted with bloodcurdling rage.

"You miserable idiot!" he hissed, catching up the corpse under the armpits and stuffing him back into the coffin. I wanted to help him, but the room swam in front of me and for some reason I was on the verge of tears. Through the fog brought on by lack of oxygen, I heard two blows and realized that Snape had nailed the coffin lid shut.

_It could be just a nightmare… I'll wake up and it all will go away, right?_

Snape gave me a few light slaps on my cheeks, and when I opened my eyes he said, "Damn you, Potter, I don't need two bodies here. Mind you, I shall not hesitate to bury you together, to be on the safe side." His voice was full of malice.

"Yes, that's just what you'd do!"

"Oh, shut your mouth and drink!" He was holding a beaker with some foul concoction.

I didn't quite have the energy to bicker with him, but in the end I couldn't help it. "How am I supposed to drink with my mouth shut?"

He thrust the beaker into my teeth with such force that I choked and coughed.

"I forgot to get a baby bottle for you," he said venomously. "Stop trying my patience and drink it."

I closed my eyes and with difficulty made a few gulps.

_Well, this is at least an improvement. We have the coffin and the corpse. I'm drinking something disgusting, but at least Snape __hasn't murdered me yet, and he didn't leave me__behind __in the forest. _

Altogether, this was a marked improvement from the last time I was awake. I opened my eyes as Snape finished magicking the coffin back under my bed, which, by the way, was the only one in the room.

_Does he have a separate room? And he put me together with the Dark Lord? To give me a corpse as a roommate was just so like that git._

"You said we couldn't use magic."

"We are in Andover. The town is large enough to hide it." He shooed me back under the covers. "Go to bed. We shall continue on our way in the morning."

I was warm. My eyes were closing of their own free will, and I had no wish to think about tomorrow.

_I'll ask him later how he managed to get the corpse. And I'll need a wand, too. Maybe we'll be able to find something in this city…_ I settled more comfortably and fell asleep.

I suppose the potion was spiked, because I felt very strange. I could not quite awaken, even though I tried to, but then I saw that it was still dark outside and gave up. Then I heard low voices and wanted nothing else but to understand what they were talking about. It was impossible to see anything in the blinking light of a single candle on the table. I strained my ears.

"But he is walking now," I heard Snape saying quietly.

"You should be grateful that he cannot talk," the other voice drawled archly, making my stomach tighten.

_Lucius Malfoy! Bugger!_

"He must be buried," Snape sounded weary, and I was surprised that he could talk so… normally. It was weird.

"Then what's your problem? I see you have a spade."

"He must be buried in a specific place, and only at a full moon."

"Which is when?"

"In two days."

"It's plenty of time."

"_Potter_ must bury him."

Then there were strange sounds, and it took me a few moments to realize that they were laughing.

"Do you need another spade?" Malfoy finally asked.

"What for?"

"Well… he can move now. He could bury himself from within and save Potter some work."

"You're hilarious," Snape muttered peevishly.

I heard a rustling sound.

"Be careful and don't lose it, or Narcissa will kill me."

"Lucius." Snape sounded frustrated. "Didn't you have anything more decent?"

"No. At least it's small, though. Put it in your pocket and don't break it."

There was a crack of apparition, and I heard Snape sigh.

_He didn't lie to me. He really wants this to be over. All of the Death Eaters want it, or they would not have given the corpse back to Snape. _

I feigned sleep and thought about what to do. Snape was not someone I could trust. He was barely talking to me and he was going to leave me behind in the forest. His only concern was to bury the corpse, and the rest of it could go hang itself. Sure, he would take care of me while he needed me – get me out of a trap, put me to bed, feed me whatever potion I just took – but the bastard could just as easily kill me if he decided I was an inconvenient witness. He himself had told me that nobody should know the location of the grave.

_I__t__ would be just like him to bury me together with Voldemort. Well, we shall see who buries whom. As soon as we our favourite corpse in the ground, I'll hand the bastard over to Aurors. Let them deal with him._


	3. Chapter 3

**_Here is another chapter! Please let me know what you think about the story. Both the author, valley, and I, the translator, love reviews! _**

* * *

With his right hand against the damp cold wall, the former spy was making his way to the entrance door by touch. The sound of the doorbell was making his chest clench up. Caught between dread and resignation, he opened the door and found the business end of the gun set against his forehead.

"I am so tired of you, Potter," he muttered drearily just before the bang of the gunshot.

Snape fell out of the coffin and woke up in the snow.

"Had a good rest?" Harry asked him cheerfully. "Then it's my turn now."

* * *

I was listing questions in my head to distract myself from the pain in my feet. I had loads of questions.

Why did the Death Eaters give the corpse back to Snape? Whose Patronus appeared in the forest? How would I hand Snape over to Aurors when he had a wand and I had only a spade? What did Lucius Malfoy give Snape when he said "Don't lose it"?

I could guess an answer to the first question. They took the corpse and either could not resurrect him fully, only enabling him to move, or did not really want to do it. Perhaps they only wanted to make sure that he was not a danger to them. Dumbledore told me that the Death Eaters were afraid of the Dark Lord's return more than anyone else. And besides, it was inconceivable that Lucius Malfoy had simply forgotten Voldemort's attempts to ensure Draco's death. Except for Bellatrix Lestrange, who was completely mad, it didn't seem like anyone on any side of the war was looking forward to that monster's return.

I didn't have the foggiest about the answer to the second question and it would not make any difference, but I wanted to satisfy my curiosity.

_If everything ends well, I'll find a way to make Snape tell me who has such an odd Patronus._

The absence of a wand was a serious problem, but, after all, Snape had to sleep too. He stole my wand, so it would not be a crime to borrow something from him. The unknown item Malfoy gave him was on him as well, in the pocket of his coat. I could take care of that.

The trouble was that we were moving too slow, so Snape said that there'd be no more stops on our way. We were supposed to bury him the next night and then sleep our fill. Had I no sneaky plans to search Snape's pockets, I would have agreed, but as it was, I had to act. As soon as darkness fell, I sat down on the coffin and announced that I would not move any further.

"We shall be late," he said in a lifeless tone.

"I'll not walk in the dark."

"But in the dark we can use the road, and it will be easier and faster."

"I won't."

He frowned, trying to understand why I was being so obstinate.

"If you are tired, I shall drag it. You should have told me –"

"I won't go."

"Potter, what is the matter?"

_Doesn't he get it? Or does he think I'm a complete idiot?_

"You've conveniently left me without a wand, Mr. Murderer."

He blinked, glanced at me with the unbelievable dreariness, and silently thrust me his wand.

I grabbed it and pointed it at his chest.

"What's in your pockets? Take everything out and show me!"

Without a word, he made a step toward the coffin and began laying out the contents of his coat pockets on the coffin lid.

One hundred forty Muggle pounds, six galleons, a handkerchief, that old issue of the Daily Prophet, the map, and … a powder-box.

_Is it what Malfoy __gave him__?_

_Well, it must be. "Narcissa will kill me", "put away and don't lose it", "it is small, though"…_

"Open it," I ordered Snape.

He obeyed. It was just a powder-box. A mirror, a pad … Hermione's powder-box was just like that.

"Why do you carry the powder on you?"

"The skin is peeling off my nose."

His voice was absolutely lifeless. He was looking past me, and I couldn't read a trace of emotion in his face. No malice, no hurt, no exasperation, not even the dreariness that I'd noticed before. Perfectly empty, dead eyes.

"_I fail to see much difference between you…"_

I felt sickened and scared.

_I bet he had the same detached expression on his face when he had to talk to Voldemort. I'm sure that he did._

_I'm an idiot._

I was ashamed, and my first inclination was to ask his forgiveness. But I could never ask that of Snape!

"Put all of that back in your pockets, and take the coffin. You can drag it. I'm tired."

_I should __tell__ him something nasty. Maybe he'll retaliate. God, this silence is unbearable! There must be a Garrulity Jinx or something…_

I looked back. With a slight limp, Snape was pulling the coffin down the road, looking, as always, displeased and malicious.

_I could simply use an Imperius to force him smile at me until we finish this business. _

I imagined him smiling and shivered.

"Why are you limping, Professor?" I approached him and took the cord. "I'll pull it."

"Not so tired anymore?"

He had almost as much contempt in his look as I felt toward myself at the moment.

_Damn him. It's enough that I agreed to do it at all._

I turned my back on him and dragged the coffin on.

He was right. It was much easier to walk on the road. The wheels were turning smoothly instead of hitching on the endless roots protruding from the ground. We should have had slept during the day. If we were to walk not five or six days but, let's say, a month, then we would have done just that. And it might seem strange, but thinking about such horrors fortified and cheered me. We were almost there! The night would soon be over, then a single day of travel, and that would be it. I glanced back. Snape hobbled after me with a heavy limp, and it was obvious that he was making a supreme effort.

"Don't fall behind, Professor," I gloated. "And you'd better go ahead, lest you look like a mourner at his funeral march."

"You are so witty, Potter."

I had to stop.

"Listen, it has wheels…"

"And?"

"Well … I've been thinking … just don't think that …"

"Potter, stop mumbling. Make your point."

"If you lie down with him, you can have a good rest while I cart both of you, it won't be hard," I said in one breath.

"Are you completely mad?"

_G__o __to hell!_ "As you please. It's not like I have nothing better to do," I turned away from him and marched forward. Snape dragged behind.

At dawn I stopped again and offered to let him sit on the lid. After all, the road was empty. No one would see him. Instead of responding, he sagged on the side of the road.  
"Should _I_ bury both of you?" I quipped uncertainly.

"Ah, so that is why you suggested I sleep in the coffin."

"I just think that you need to rest for at least a couple of hours, or we won't make it."

"Fine."

Indeed, it was not much more difficult to pull both of them, but I was worried that now it was impossible to nail down the lid. I just tucked it along the coffin side and often looked back to check that our dearest treasure had not escaped. But the corpse was behaving. Hopefully the magic that the Death Eaters used to resurrect him had exhausted itself or dissipated completely, since we were so close to Stonehenge.

"Hey, mate, do you need a ride?"

I didn't even hear them pull up. An old open-bed farm truck, two smiling workers.

_Should I go with them?... What if they recognize me and __hand us over __to the police?..."Are you a wizard or not?"_

"Thank you," I muttered uncertainly but then, recalling that Snape had money in his coat, added resolutely, "A ride would be great."

They were already standing next to me, and I realized that it was very foolish of me to be afraid of them. Voldemort could rise up from his coffin in all his dead glory at any moment, and he could scare braver men than these two blokes.

"Sweet embrace, eh?" One of the men smirked, pointing at the coffin where Snape was sleeping next to Voldemort. "Ain't it too cramped in there?"

I shivered. The bloke called my old archenemies sweet, and I thought that, in any case, they were two of a kind, and it would be hard to tell who had the sweeter temper.

"I don't know." I glanced at the coffin and was surprised to discover that Snape had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around the corpse, and he'd even put his head on Voldemort's shoulder.

"The tall one is really ugly. His face is just… ugh… Cor, lad, what got him?"

"Er, I don't know..." I was a little bewildered.

"I hope it's not syphilis, with such a nose!"

"Just don't snog him, Ted, and you'll be all right," guffawed the blond one.

"Look, lad, we're a little hard up for, erm, something we need," Ted said, and he twitched. At first, I thought it was from the cold. "Here, now, you know what I'm talking about. Have you got any on you?"

"He does." I figured he was asking about money, so I nodded at Snape. "We can give you as much as you need."

But then Ted took another look at Voldemort, and appeared to change his mind. "Nah, we're all right," Ted sighed with obvious regret. "Have a whole day of work ahead anyway."

"Let's take it – maybe it's good!" the blond one whispered in his ear.

"No," Ted shook his head resolutely. "Just look in those blokes, eh? It does _that_? Betsy would never let me back in the house."

I didn't really know what they were talking about, and Snape must have been barely alive if he had not woken up yet, so I made a command decision. I helped them to push the coffin into the bed of the truck and hauled myself up. There was no reason to worry; it was just a short ride.

"Come on, let's take it," the blond said again in a loud whisper as they climbed in.

"Stow it. We'll smoke a bit after supper and have a think. Whatever this kid's got on him, it's sure death."

The door banged, and the car started. I rested my temple on the side of the truck and laughed silently. There was a sure death, indeed, in the coffin right next to me. Just as sure as it gets. And yes, good pot was undoubtedly better for one's health.

"Oi, lad." Someone gently pulled at my shoulder. "We're turning off the main road here. What about you?"

I opened my eyes and muttered that I ought to get off.

_How long was I asleep?_

The car was idling at a fork in the road. A narrow track branched off into a snow-covered field and ran down the hill.

"As you say." They quickly lowered the coffin to the ground and handed me a large paper-wrapped bundle by way of a goodbye token. "Good luck."

"Thank you!" I called back, unfolding the paper as their car coughed away.

The bundle contained two cheese sandwiches, two ham ones, and an apple. If happiness was possible at all, I held in my hand.

I took a ham sandwich, wrapped up the rest of them, and with some difficulty stuffed everything into the pocket of my jacket.

_I should move on. When Snape wakes up, it will be his turn. It's the last day! Tonight we will bury this bastard __who's been refusing to die for so long__, and tomorrow I can be back at Hogwarts_.

The coffin was rolling smoothly down the road and the melting snow was squelching under my feet, while I munched on my sandwich. It was still early, and I did not expect any unfortunate encounters. After all, Scrimgeour did not know in which direction we headed. Maybe he believed we'd gone to Hogwarts. He must have been looking for us in the north, while we were moving west or even south-west, so he didn't have a chance.

Snape woke up when it was already lunchtime and was very surprised to find that there was indeed a lunch for him. But despite his extreme efforts, he could not help his limping. We left the road behind and nailed down the coffin, having removed our sack with the instruments from it.

By nightfall it began raining, but I was happy, and my mood could not be spoiled even by my right trainer, which decided to part ways with its sole. I was going to leave it in the mud squelching under my feet, but for some reason Snape decided to get it out of the puddle and put it in the sack.

We were there at last.

Snape pulled out the torch, and by its light we saw odd vertical stones around. Then he walked away to find a place for the grave.

"Let's bury him right in front of the altar!" I shouted to his back, but he did not even glance at me.

_As if I need your reply. _

I sat down on the coffin, which was lopsidedly standing in the mud, and waited for Snape to come back.

"Let's go." Suddenly he emerged from the darkness and tugged the cord of the coffin without waiting for me to get up.

_Just perfect. I'll only be glad if he does all the work_.

But the wheels got stuck in the mud all the time, and I had to lift the coffin quite a bit.

We approached a hillock and went round it on the right. Snape announced that this was the Northern Barrow, and told me to dig at its foot.

Fortunately, it had got a touch warmer and the ground was no longer frozen, making it relatively easy to dig. Snape provided me with light from the torch, doing his best to hold it straight, but it did not help me to see anything in that mud. At least the snow had melted, and water and mud were better for digging than ice. I was actually a little glad that it had been raining all evening.

"Hurry up," Snape threw an exasperated glance at the sky.

"Isn't it your turn to warm up now?"

"Dig deeper," he snapped without deigning me with a reply.

_Fine. Have no fear, __you'll__ pay for every one of your __impudent demands_.

"Shall we remove the wheels?" I asked him when the grave was ready.

"You may keep them as a memento." With his foot, he pushed the coffin into the grave. "That is, if you wish to climb down there to get them."

_Right, so you can crack my skull open with a spade. I'll pass, thank you. _

"It's almost Christmas," said Snape for no reason at all. "What are you standing there for? Bury him already." And he began to throw down clots of dirt with his foot.

_So that was __why he refused to take the second spade offered by Malfoy, the lazy bastard! _

When I was finished, my only wish was to lie atop the grave and die. The joy of accomplishment notwithstanding, today had been more exhausting than the previous year.

"Potter, give me the wand."

"Don't even ask."

"And how do you suggest we finish this job?"

"You tell me what to do and I'll do it."

He smirked nastily.

"Then you'd better seal your mouth and borrow some brains. That's only my first suggestion; I have thousands more."

_Fine. _

He was squatting down at the grave. I stood next to him, holding my spade loosely.

_Let him try just to scare me._

I removed the wand from behind my belt and threw it at him, then took the spade in both hands and held it up to defend myself..

He laughed. Not maliciously and even not mockingly, he was just laughing without opening his pale lips.

"Are you going to hit me, Potter?"

"Absolutely. One funny move and I promise you a nice blow to the head. And how are you going to use the wand here, if, as you say, Aurors react to magic immediately?"

"I am not going to use magic."

He began to draw slowly on the grave. First he made a Christian cross, then a Celtic one, then he thought a bit, tilting his head aside, and scratched in two unshapely triangles one atop the other. By this point, I'd brought the spade down again. I was all curiosity.

"What is it?"

"This is just in case," he replied, adding to the triangles an even more distorted half-moon.

"Then you should draw the sun too."

"Why?" He was surprised.

"Well, you've put the moon here…"

"Oh, shut up," he snorted. "Stop showing off your ignorance."

I had no idea how to get the wand back from him.

_But if we cannot use magic, we will have to walk from here, anyway. At least to the nearest town_.

"That's it, we're off." He got up and … thrust the wand into my hands. I was stunned. "Potter, we must go. The sooner we leave this place, the better."

"May I at least fix my trainer?"

"Very well."

With a forcible stroke, he chopped off a piece of the cord, put the axe away in the sack and stood waiting for me to tie my upper to my sole. I tied things off as tightly as I could and straightened up.

"Where are we going now?"

"It is only five miles to Amesbury," he said flatly.

I took the sack from him and walked in his wake. First, I did this just in case, since I did not know what to expect from him, and, second ... just in case. What if he fell down again, like the day before? I might not even notice, with him being so silent all the time.

Amesbury turned out to be a small but pleasant town. Or maybe it was a hellhole; I can't really recall. At that moment, I had a place to eat, wash, and sleep, so it was paradise.

To save money, we got just one room with a large bed, demanded and were refused four blankets, and fell asleep. I had a fleeting thought to send a message, at least to Ron, but then I realized that we were still close to Stonehenge and I should better return to London first. Then I had some other random thoughts that I can't recall, and then I was asleep.

I was woken up by shouting.

Snape was standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, with an open powder-box in his hand. He was goggling at the round mirror in his hand and shouting, "And where is the damn coffin?"

"Sev, he has no coffin!" the mirror was saying. "He must have lost it!"

"None of this makes any sense!" Snape protested. "Are you saying that you can see him?"

Whatever was going on, it sounded extremely bad. I jumped off the bed and raced to Snape.

"Yes, I am looking at him through my window!" Malfoy was shouting back from the powder-box.

"What is he doing?"

"He is dipping his hand in the pond."

"I see."

"What is it that you see, Sev?"

"Obviously, he is fishing. He is hungry."

"He cannot be hungry, he is _dead_!"

"Yes, but his reflexes and habits remain. Lucius, for Merlin's sake, stop shouting... Potter!" Snape threw me a brief fierce look, and I realized that I should not have been staring so blatantly.

"Sev, you promised me to bury him at a Celtic cemetery!" Malfoy yelled without any regard for my presence whatsoever. "When will it be over? Why do I have to watch this monster bathing in my pond?"

"He's ... wait. He is _in_ the pond?"

"Yes! He's standing in the water up to his waist and ... and ... splashing!"

"Then you must drive him out of there."

"And send him where? Severus, if you do not remove him from my grounds this instant, I'm calling the Aurors! I do not need any more problems!"

"Don't! Lucius, don't you dare!"

"Scrimgeour will pay fifty thousand galleons for him, by the way."

"I will be there instantly. Don't move."

"Fine, come here with Potter. You are worth ten thousand each," replied Malfoy and broke the connection.

_Well, this is terrible._

"What has Malfoy got to do with this?" I asked when Snape closed the powder-box.

"He lives a few miles from here."

"And Voldemort came to him?"

"He often visited the Manor in life…"

Snape began racing around, putting on the clothes.

"How? How did he...?" I was baffled. We'd done everything right. Hadn't we?

"I told you that he would get out if we buried him incorrectly. Potter, stop gaping at me like an idiot and get dressed!"

"I can't believe this. You said you knew how to bury him…"

"I never said that. Are you ready?"

I hurried to put my clothes on.

_What if it was a treacherous plan of Malfoy's? Perhaps he'd followed us, dug up the corpse and brought it to his manor. Perhaps this whole thing was a trap to catch Snape and me, and he's just waiting for us to arrive so he can summon the Aurors. Seventy thousand galleons is nothing to sneeze at. _

"Don't go there," I tugged at his coat. "He must have already informed Scrimgeour."

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"We can wait until the body is back at the Ministry and then steal it again. And in the meantime we can find out what went wrong."

"For one thing, you do not know for certain that Lucius has called the Aurors. Don't you think that our corpse in his park is a rather nasty Christmas present?"

He paused, but I kept silent.

"Second, if the body is returned to the Ministry, it is very likely that we shall not be able to steal it again. And third, we still need that damnable coffin."

"The coffin must have been left at Stonehenge. The corpse probably climbed out of it and left it there."

"Of course, had he realized the coffin's importance, he'd have certainly remembered about it, and we'd have found neither of them. I shall take the wand. You go to Stonehenge to retrieve the coffin without it, while I fetch the corpse from Malfoy's estate."

"And then?"

"You check whether the coffin is where we have left it, and contact me. I'll pay for the room and wait for your call at the Manor."

He threw me the powder-box and dashed out of the door.

I took it, and only then did it dawn on me that Snape had eliminated the possibility that Scrimgeour could apprehend me if Malfoy had grassed on us. I could not get to the Manor unless Snape told me through the mirror that everything was fine. He wanted me to finish this business even if he could not do it himself.

Mud squelched up through my terrible shoe repair as I walked. When I arrived at Stonehenge, I realized that I would have to wait till the evening. I did not have a wand, and there were tourists. I am a wizard, but not a magician.

When it was completely dark, I took the torch out of the sack and went searching for the Northern Barrow that I had been trying to detect during the day.

Clearly, Voldemort was a very neat corpse. He had climbed out of the grave and left almost no trace. The mound was hardly noticeable, and incredibly, the coffin was still inside with its lid barely displaced at all.

It took me a long time to dig it out. The front wheel that we had already repaired three times fell off again, but I so hoped that I would not have to drag the box anymore that I decided against nailing it back, and simply put it away in the sack. Then I pulled out the powder-box from the pocket of the jacket.

"Professor Snape?"

He showed up in the mirror immediately.

"Are you ready?"

I can't describe the relief I felt at the sight of his sour face. "Haven't you been sold to Scrimgeour yet?"

"I shall be with you in a minute."

Almost immediately I heard the crack of the Apparition. The first thing he did after appearing next to me was to give me a wand. "Take it, just in case."

"What about you?"

"I have another one."

He shrank the coffin to such a small size that he could drop it into his pocket, which he did. Then he nodded at me to get the sack, firmly took me by my jacket sleeve, and we Apparated right into the main hall of a very large mansion.

By the way, Dumbledore once told me that it was not a polite thing to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Professor Snape was standing in a circular room with mirrored walls, throwing frantic glances around. Of course, he knew that he was surrounded by mirrors and that there were sixteen of them, but he could not understand why he saw not his own reflection, but sixteen Potters, each with a gun pointing straight at his forehead.

"Fire already," whispered Snape, closing his eyes.

"Don't like what you see, sir? It's a shame. You're a vision of health and beauty... compared to Voldemort."

The professor opened his eyes.

"Fire."

"As you wish."

The sound of the shot blocked Snape's ears. He woke up and shuddered at the bang of another shot.

"What happened, Potter?" he yelped.

"Nothing. It's just fireworks." Harry gestured at the glow that flooded the night sky. "It's a holiday, after all."

"Ah, the fireworks…" Snape closed his eyes in relief and immediately fell asleep again.

* * *

"Considering the fact that you Apparated there and shrank that damned box, Scrimgeour will find your pit. He will need time to understand what you were doing there, why you buried the body only to dig it out later, and where you disappeared to after that." Malfoy was sitting with his legs stretched towards the fire, while Snape was studying a map on a nearby table. "Sev, I've marked it for you."

"Yes, thank you."

I approached the table to find out what they were talking about.

"There are two Stonehenges in Britain," said Snape quietly, jabbing his finger somewhere in the north of Scotland. "This is Callanish."

"Two Stonehenges? You said there was only one!" I blurted out and peered down at the map. The map read _"The Isle of Lewis_" next to a pen mark on some island.

_An island? Why an island?_

"Clearly, you've confused the two, Sev." Malfoy lounged in his chair with his eyes closed. "Surely, you need the northern one. It is far away, small, can be reached only by water, and best of all, does not cater to tourists…"

"There are tourists everywhere," Snape interrupted him with distaste.

"An island?" I said, realizing what we'd have to do now. "Are we going to walk there? Across all England?"

"And Scotland," muttered Snape.

"There are also the Gram-pi-an Mountains," Malfoy drawled theatrically. "But I wish you the best of luck." And the bastard laughed.

"How long will it take us to get there?" I braced myself and tried to calm down. There was no other way. If Voldemort must be buried there, then we have to go.

A glance at Snape made me feel sorry for him. At once he looked older and stooped, slowly tracing something on the map with his finger and whispering with his pale lips.

"Sev, just imagine, the reward for you is the same as it was for Sirius Black back then," Malfoy was taunting us, smiling. "Why didn't you let me sell him?"

"Out of two of us, you would do better to sell Potter," Snape nodded at me. "They shall only return him to Hogwarts."

"Hmm. And then I could sell him once more after he runs away again. Sev, you are a genius. It's a sure way to make a fortune."

"It's a sure way to disgrace! And just your way!"

"Is he always like this?" Malfoy quietly asked Snape.

"Sometimes he is asleep," Snape said, with a glance at me, "But it is rare."

"Did you try _Silencio_?"

_Oh, shut up, both of you._

"Lucius, do you think we could get there in a month?"

"Certainly, but you would need some means of transport. And do not forget that you are both wanted men. Don't get complacent. Your luck is only due to this odd idea of Scrimgeour's that you went from London to Scotland."

"Obviously, we need the northern Henge." Snape folded the map. "Callanish was built according to the moon cycle."

"Exactly," Malfoy agreed with a nod. "While Stonehenge has been long lost to Muggles, all the curses have been removed, if they haven't dissipated from old age. I can just imagine Scrimgeour's face at the sight of your pit."

"Also there were some swindlers after us."

"Dearest Bellatrix killed them in the forest. They had attempted to seize the corpse from her before she made sure that he could not be resurrected. However, fifty thousand galleons does not grow on trees, so you should expect to meet other enthusiastic investigators. But they will look for you here, while you head North, so that's some luck. And, by the way, you'd better leave me your wand. "

"This one is not mine. Mine is broken."

"True. However, if you go to the kitchen and play with the elves, it will adopt your magical profile. I can use this wand later as a distraction, and it will take time for Scrimgeour to realize that he is being tricked. There are so many towns around here."

"They'll catch you," he said flatly.

"Oh, I am not going to hide. And I promise, I will only use innocent spells." Malfoy smirked. "But I will of course make sure that they are interesting enough to catch the Ministry's attention. Sev, just imagine how long it will take them to deal with Stonehenge. You must have left traces with your wheels. Most people will have no idea what left the traces and what all this means, so you have a good start. Take the train…"

"They won't allow the coffin as baggage."

"Then take it apart."

"What?" I was taken aback.

"The coffin. I know you made it yourself, Mr. Potter."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Lucius, you seem to have forgotten that the coffin is not empty."

"No, I have not. But, as far as I understand, the Dark Lord is almost alive, only lacking in the Speech department."

"Thank the gods," muttered Snape.

"And in your case it is rather an advantage."

"We have no documents," Snape argued.

"Oh Sev, must I think of everything? Ask Fletcher, and you will have your documents."

"I shall have no dealings with Fletcher!" hissed Snape. "You don't know him what a first-class scoundrel he is!"

"You think so? Actually, we are very well acquainted. Spent almost a year in the adjacent cells. This sort of thing tends to make people close. He can get you whatever you want for the right price, and Muggle documents are just a laugh for him."

"I don't have money to pay him," replied Snape wearily without glancing at me.

"Then let's hand Potter over to Scrimgeour!" Malfoy proposed cheerfully. "He will pay ten thousand galleons, and you will have enough for the burial. Come to think of it, for that amount of money, you could have a wake. And not just any wake. Ten thousand pounds would buy enough booze to intoxicate all of magical Britain at once."

I could not stand it anymore and began laughing.

"You see, Potter doesn't mind."

"Lucius, stop spouting nonsense," Snape grumbled, again burying his face in the map.

"I have money," I said.

As if on command, they both turned their heads towards me and raised their eyebrows inquiringly.

"At Gringotts," I explained, realizing halfway through the syllable "Gri" that I had said something stupid.

Still in perfect accord, they rolled their eyes and sighed expressively.

"Well, you have money, don't you?" I said spitefully to Malfoy.

Snape immediately tensed, stopped stooping and stood up awkwardly from the table.

"Fine," he said folding the map. "We do not have any time to spare."

_Is he going to set off right now? But then again, why not…_

This time it was not so terrible, but we had a much longer journey ahead of us, and it would take far more than five days to cover it.

Of course, we could not take a train, but we walked only by road and only after nightfall. It got colder again and snowed for a few days. Snape was muffling up in a large black scarf, which Malfoy tied on him as a goodbye token. He had stopped limping, but two working legs hadn't made him any less taciturn. At this rate I expected to go nuts in a month.

Initially we took the course to Birmingham, leaving Bristol and Wales "with its inconvenient access to the sea" to the left. At least that was what Snape said, and I only nodded sagely. It was clear that we had better go by road, or we would never reach our destination even by summer, and certainly not by the next full moon. We had already dragged this monster through forest, and it was far from pleasant. My ankle began to ache at the mere memory of the trap. It really did, even though there was no objective reason for it. I had left Malfoy Manor in knee-high winter boots, picked for me by Snape who personally popped over to London to buy them. Still, I did not feel particularly grateful. In fact, I felt like Uncle Vernon's car when he refueled it, changed the oil, or hoovered the carpets. My only consolation was that after the first burial Snape did not attempt any evil plan to harm me. Or, perhaps, he simply did not have enough time to implement it.

Near Worcester we received an unexpected owl from Mr. Weasley. The message left me flustered.

"_Harry, please reply to this message. We want to help. _

_Arthur Weasley."_

I thought a bit and gave the parchment to Snape. After all, there were two of us on this journey. He read it, twisting his thin lips contemptuously, and pulled out matches without a word.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Too dangerous."

A gust of wind did not even let the ash reach the ground.

It was almost Christmas, and I could feel the holiday spirit in the air. Every town and village that we passed through with our burdensome coffin seemed determined to prove that we had chosen the wrong season for a walk to the North of Scotland. The streets were illuminated by strings of coloured lights, and the gazes of the Santa Clauses in shop widows seemed to follow us reproachfully. Wrapped in tinsel and blinking garlands, the trees waved us goodbye with their branches, and the mistletoe wreaths on every door reminded me that while Christmas was coming, none of this brightness and gaiety was for us. Others had home and family waiting for them. The only thing awaiting us was a snow-covered island at world's end.

"We are passing Manchester on the right," Snape informed me taciturnly one night, and I was quite glad. I did not want to see any more festive shop windows, garlands, and decorated Christmas trees. They were tokens of someone else's holiday.

After Manchester we got lucky when, for the sake of Christmas spirit, we were picked up by a merry young couple in an old rusty car. The girl chattered all the way, but to my great surprise, Snape was not exasperated by it, and even attempted to smile. He smiled more successfully after she treated us to hot tea from a huge thermos.

When we were on our own again, our journey became more difficult. We walked through hills and bypassed lakes with a thin crust of ice. Both Snape and I lost our wands in one of them, because Voldemort decided to escape his coffin and take a swim. We spent half the night trying to catch him and fish him out. The reasons behind our corpse's sudden urge to swim was undiscoverable, and strangely, the loss of the wands hardly upset us. It was impossible to search for them in the black icy water and half-decayed leaves.

"Oh, to hell with them," Snape said at last, looking at the lake with distaste. "We cannot use them anyway. On your feet, Potter. We have ground to cover."

During those dark, cold days of our journey, I often thought about buying a red Santa Claus hat and glasses with one of those large red lightbulb noses in one of the villages we passed through. I felt warmer at a mere thought of what my outfit would have done to Snape. But I could not buy anything at all and simply thought about the idea every time we passed by the bright shop windows.

On Christmas Eve we spent the night at an inn. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

I was awakened by a wild yelp: "Didn't I tell you to lock the doors, Potter?"

I sat up on the bed but, being half-asleep, I could not understand what had happened until I saw the empty coffin in the middle of the room and its lid next to it.

Voldemort had escaped. Again.

The tall shadow that I could never possibly confuse with anyone else rushed past the window, closely followed by another one that, too, I had no difficulty to inden… identiti… Damn it. I keep forgetting those clever "Hermione" words. What I mean to say is that now I could sense Snape, too.

I raced to the window, which had misted over, tried to clean it with both palms, and still could not see anything at all.

I dressed like a madman, stuffing myself into jeans, boots and jumper, and ran out of the inn.

They had already left our street and turned a corner, so I ran after them. It was a loud night; the town was in a partying mood, and our corpse apparently just couldn't wait to join in the joyful revels. Voldemort had straightened up and walked straight into a huge crowd, while Snape was sneaking behind him with the spade at the ready, obviously waiting for his chance to deliver a decisive blow. But the further they went, the thinner his chances grew.

The crowd greeted the Dark Lord with merry hooting. Snape lowered the spade and pretended to be there by accident. At the same time he was trying not to lose the sight of Voldemort. I ran to him. Between the two of us, we caught our starved for revels companion under the arms and managed to bring him back to the inn.

"I did nail the coffin up," Snape muttered under his breath.

"Clearly, you are not that good at it," I gloated. I had earned my right to gloat a little.

"You think so?" he inquired coldly, and I realized that I had made my bed. Now he would announce that it would be my duty to nail up the coffin, since it was the only sure way to prevent the corpse's escape.

"I think you'd missed the nails, as usual."

"Well, from now on, _you_ will nail it," he hissed.

I just knew it. Damn.

The next five days we walked mainly through forest, rarely making it to the road and quickly abandoning it to make short-cuts. I was not sure that this increased our speed significantly, but Snape said that "the road posed a certain risk", and I gave in even though it was extremely difficult to drag the coffin along those forest paths. The snow immediately filled my boots, which I painstakingly dried by fire every night. My hands did not obey me. The wheels hitched up on tree roots every chance they got. We even considered taking them off for a while, but eventually decided that in that case they would soon break off. Now we walked by day, and by night we built fire to get warm and to dry up our boots, and did our best to rest.

During those five days Snape deigned to speak to me only once, despite my endless attempts to pique his interest or at least to goad him.

"Why must he be buried, especially at the other end of the world? He is perfectly harmless."

Snape looked me as though wondering about my mental state. "The corpse is harmless, but as long as it is whole, the Dark Lord can be resurrected, as it happened the first time around."

"You mean, it's a Horcrux?"

Snape shrugged without a word, and that was the end of the conversation.

On one hand, a Horcrux cannot be created unintentionally; on the other hand, our corpse was not a product of an accident. And it was not a normal dead body. It could walk… I wondered whether Voldemort realized what a peculiar Horcrux he had created in the end, or if he was too busy with other things to worry about it. And I also wanted to know whether it mattered that I was the only person alive who had been present at the creation of that Horcrux.

After thinking about it for the whole day, in the evening I asked Snape's opinion.

"I am afraid, yes," he replied, sitting down by the fire. "You were there, you saw it. You are connected to him, you killed him, and now you must bury him."

_Well, really! Find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you end up a grave-digger. _

I felt sad, but then it occurred to me that I would never in my life have to spend another New Year's Eve outdoors by a fire once this was over. At least, I wouldn't have the same company. I slammed my palm on the coffin lid and laughed.

_We shall bury you, and all will be well. For everyone._

"What is so funny, Potter?"

"We shouldn't make any more drawings on his grave. I'd better compose a poem for him."

"Are you a poet?" He raised his brows in surprise. "Since when?"

Actually, I had just blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. I had never written a single line of poetry, but Snape, warmed by the fire, had for once condescended to talk to me, and it would have been foolish to miss such an opportunity.

"No, but for this corpse…"

"And what have you written yet?"

"_Here lies the Darkest Lord, _

_Scaly, scary, and bald..._"

I could not come up with the next line.

"Is that all you could think of, Potter?"

"_I destroyed and buried him…_"

Snape twisted his thin lips in a semblance of a smile, _"Not to see his face again."_

"That doesn't rhyme," I snorted.

"As if your lines do!"

"Well, they rhyme better than yours! You couldn't come up with anything at all! Come on, give me a poem!"

"You do not really want to hear it, Potter."

"You just can't. If you could do anything, besides…"

"_The boy called Harry and the Dark Lord_

_Are filthy, loathsome, and foul._

_Here I buried them together _

_To forget their names forever_."

For a moment I forgot how to breathe. I leapt to my feet and stared at him with trembling lips, and then I began to fiercely shove snow into the fire, vowing to never talk to him again.

We had no lack of entertainment, even without hellish poems. While we were preparing for sleep, an owl landed on the coffin and stuck its leg out.

"_Lucius Malfoy cannot deceive Scrimgeour any __longer__. Arthur Weasley_," I read and passed the letter over to Snape.

He tore off a piece of paper from the lower edge of the map, wrote a single word "_Details_" with a normal Muggle pen which he produced from the internal pocket of his coat, and sent the owl back.

In two hours we received the message with the details and contemplated it for a long time in the yellow light of the torch that I was holding in my frozen hands.

"_Harry, they have confiscated the wand that was leaving traces of Snape's magic. Of course, __Malfoy__ had wiggled out of it, but he cannot help you anymore. You cannot head North. Scrimgeour ordered all the roads blocked, and the Aurors are combing the forests. You will be caught, and I know whereof I speak, Harry. Your portraits are gracing every Muggle police station in Scotland. They are expecting you in Glasgow. _

_A._"

"Why didn't he sign it?" Snape smirked contemptuously. "In any case, if it had been intercepted, the author would have been discovered straight away."

"He did sign it," I was very angry. "He was writing to me, not to you."

"Has your relationship become closer since his last missive? As far as I remember, he signed that one with his full name. I never knew that correspondence makes people so close."

I wanted to say something nasty to him, but he was already unfolding the map. It would have been a waste to spend time bickering.

"If worse comes to worst, we could go by sea from Glasgow," he said in exasperation.

"But he says that Glasgow is monitored by the Ministry. We won't be able to get a boat there."

"Then…" Snape was slowly tracing the map with one narrow finger. "Then we have to go back to Liverpool."

"You are insane!"

"Do you have any other suggestions?" He folded the map and fixed me with a heavy stare.

My suggestion was not to mind the Ministry and continue on our way to the North. I had much more trust in forests and deep snow than in crowded towns and inns. But I had a strong suspicion that Snape would not approve of this plan. Honestly, I didn't completely approve of it myself.

"It is more than two hundred miles to Liverpool. It will take us at least a week to get there," I argued.

"If we are lucky," he agreed. "But there is no other way."

"There should be!"

"I am all ears, Mr. Potter."

"What are we going to do in Liverpool?"

"We'll sail to Ireland."

"And how shall we pay? We have no money!"

"Your powers of observation astound me."

I was furious. "Why didn't Malfoy help you? If he's pretending to be your friend, he could have given us money!"

"And why should I have accepted anything from him?"

"To bury this monster is more important than all of your stupid prejudices! I would have paid him back later!"

"Ah, well, I am happy to see that you are perfectly free of stupid prejudices, Potter." And he marched forward.

_Loathsome snake! He just wants to make me feel stupid. Well, I'll show him I'm stronger than that! Then he will shut up! I'll show him! Just like Dumbledore did! _

"_He killed Dumbledore_," an uninvited thought flashed for a second in my mind.

"I have an idea!" I shouted into his back.

He stopped, turned to me, and after putting his foot on the coffin, looked at me expectantly.

"Let's exhibit him for money."

"I beg your pardon?"

I approached and tapped on the coffin lightly with the sole of my boot.

"Are you mad, Potter?" Snape was gobsmacked.

"Why not? He can move."

Snape bent down to clear the snow from his boots and, it seemed, stopped paying me any attention. Disappointed, I took the cord from him and decided to ignore him too.

"Head to the left, Potter," he demanded in about an hour.

"There is a town…"

"Exactly."

"But we are wanted men!"

"Then stay here."

_No way. If he is going to Ireland and only scoffs at my suggestions, it means he knows where to get money. But he won't explain anything__ to__ me. I can't let him out of my sight._

The streets of an unknown town were completely empty.

_Damn, I have forgotten that it was the first of January. __This __should have been expected._

To my overwhelming surprise, Snape headed straight for a telephone booth. I was so curious that despite his exasperated snorting I left the coffin in the street and joined him in the booth.

"Do you know how to use it, Potter?" he asked with irritation.

"But your father was a Muggle," I was surprised.

"Why do you think so?" he did not sound angry but threw me a very displeased look.

"They said so in the _Prophet_. Hermione found an article about your mother's wedding."

"So what?"

"The _Prophet_ said that she'd married a Muggle."

"The _Prophet_ also said that you should be locked up in St. Mungo's as a dangerous schizophrenic. What's your opinion about this diagnosis?"

Clearly, a direct question was the only way to find out whether Tobias Snape was a Muggle or not, but I did not have time. Snape had already opened a huge telephone directory. For a moment, I imagined that he was going to call for emergency services, since it was clearly high time for that, and bit on my lip not to laugh. In the meantime he slapped the book. The pages rustled lightly as if moved by wind, and the letters began to change, becoming green and glittering. I stared. This was a surprise! Were all directories in Britain like that?

Having frantically ruffled through the pages, Snape crossly jabbed his finger into the name "Lucius Malfoy." I held my breath, but nothing happened.

"Come on," his patience, clearly, was coming to an end.

The book wriggled, and slowly the name of Malfoy was annotated with a shining message:

"_The subscriber is __in Azkaban and __temporarily unavailable, please call __back __later_."

"But he was set free…" I felt myself very stupid. "When exactly is 'later'?.."

"_I haven't the foggiest."_

The book had made an attempt to answer but, since it obviously lacked information, the blurred letters disappeared after twinkling a couple of times. This uncannily resembled Dudley's computer. It had booted itself down last summer after twinkling almost exactly like that, declaring itself broken. I giggled involuntarily, and Snape gave me such a look that I, recalling how Dudley had kicked the monitor in with his foot, tried to make a step backwards. But the booth was so small I had nowhere to go. Fortunately, no one was going to beat me with their feet.

"Incredible. The lazy bastards haven't bothered to update the database!" Snape closed the book and frowned, deep in thought about something. "Very well, we must leave this place."

"Let's send a message to Mr. Weasley," I suggested a minute later. "Or you could write to Malfoy."

"No, I cannot. The message will surely be intercepted, since Scrimgeour knows that he helped us."

"Scrimgeour could not prove it."

"It is enough that he knows. They'll intercept it."

The only option was Mr. Weasley, but we did not have an owl.

We had left the town and reached a copse of trees, where an owl found us. Snape gave in and read the note.

"_Malfoy is asking where you are. _

_A."_

"Whom is he asking?" I was surprised. "Mr. Weasley?"

Snape sighed, tore off the upper left corner of the Atlantic Ocean from the map, sat down on the coffin, and for almost fifteen minutes scribbled a reply. Having sent off the owl, he looked back once more at the town we had just left.

"We have to get back."

"It's risky."

"I have already confessed my admiration of your observational skills, Potter." His sarcasm was spoilt by the tiredness in his voice. "Stop showing them off all the time."

We were sitting and waiting for Malfoy in the dirty bedroom of some tiny inn in an equally tiny town. The place was lost in the snow between Edinburgh and Glasgow. I never bothered to find out its name.

"Forget about Scotland," Malfoy said as he entered. He slipped into the room almost without a sound and quietly fetched himself a wooden stool. "Scrimgeour is sure that you are bent on getting back to Hogwarts."

"Why?" I asked, irritated. "Why should we go to Hogwarts?"

"Are you asking me, Mr. Potter?" Malfoy threw me a cold glance. "The intricate reasoning of our Minister is too… hmmm... original for me to understand."

"We are going back to Liverpool," Snape announced.

"I see. And what are you going to do there?"

Snape was silently looking at him with a sad smile. Malfoy frowned and sighed heavily.

"You are looking for trouble. You'd better throw it out somewhere or give it back to Scrimgeour."

"No doubt, that's what you'd have done," I snapped.

"And I would make money, while you are only spending it." Malfoy stood up from the table. "Your plan is rubbish, Sev. This is idiocy at its most suicidal."

When he left, Snape looked at me, smirked and told me to go and buy a sport duffel.

"What for?" I doubtfully looked at our sack with the instruments. "It's ok as it is."

"For the coffin," he replied barely containing laugh.

"Are we going to break the planks?"

"We shall chop them. Later you will fix it."

"Did Malfoy give you money?"

"Worse. Now we have Muggle documents, too."

"Maybe we won't need them." For some reason the idea of using fake IDs unsettled me.

"I do hope so. Potter, get moving."

On my return I found that Snape had sat Voldemort up on the bed and was trying to make him presentable. There was a long way to go. The former almost-ruler of the world had become a bit shabby since I had killed him and now held the best resemblance to a bum dying from syphilis. However, we had no time to spare for idle thinking, so I started to "dismantle" the coffin with the axe. This was no problem. We had plenty of nails, so I could always fix it.

Having stored the planks in one of those big green bags that athletes lug around, I announced that I was ready. I took the bag with the coffin, while Snape carried the sack with the torch and instruments. We tightly held the corpse by its arms.

* * *

The snow-covered trees sped past us. I had been staring out the window for more than an hour, and all I could think was how grateful I was that I didn't have to traverse that endless white wasteland on foot. Roofs and posts flashing past our train's window outside made me seven kinds of happy. My relief couldn't even be spoiled by the fact that I had lost almost all sensation on my left side. Voldemort was tightly wedged between Snape and myself in order to keep him upright,, and with such a block of ice between us, I quickly got very cold.

Two old ladies from Leyland sitting opposite us were busy chattering about Christmas, their neighbours, and Mrs. Hardy's driver. From time to time they threw increasingly curious glances at Snape and Voldemort. They had no interest in me because I turned my head from time to time, but Snape looked hardly different than his dead master. Both had been staring straight ahead for more than an hour. I'll bet Snape was suffering from the cold even more than I, because before getting on the train he took off the scarf given by Malfoy and rolled up the face of our "handsome" companion in it up to his eyes. But the eyes were still visible, so, of course, the curious old ladies were staring at them all the way. I wondered if he ever blinked...

It was already getting dark when we disembarked in Liverpool. The snowflakes swirling in the light of the street-lamps helped us forget that we had returned to a place where we had no business being. It was unbelievably pleasant and calm. We were marching down the platform, firmly holding Voldemort by his arms. He was twitching, trying either to sit or lie down, and Snape had to kick him forcibly from behind. At that moment I noticed the sack with the instruments in Snape's hands and realized with a sinking heart that I had forgotten the bag with the planks. It was still on the train.

"Coffin!" I shouted wildly, startling the hell out of everyone on the platform. "I left my coffin there!"

Two girls jumped out of my way in terror, and an old lady glanced back and shook her head reproachfully, but I couldn't care less. The train whistled and slowly started to chug forward. I sprinted back, briefly noticing that Snape was hanging on Voldemort's arm trying to prevent him from falling under the train. Their silent struggle wasn't the sort of thing that was easily camouflaged, and a moustached policeman had thrown us a couple of very disapproving glances.

_We'd deal with this later. How could I forget the damned _coffin_? Oh, gods. _

I jumped up on a foot-board, which was moving pretty fast, and somehow managed to cling to the side of the train and grasp the emergency brake. The train squealed and began to slow down.

"What are you doing?" A very young conductor hurried over, looking annoyed. "Having a laugh, are you?"

"I've left my… baggage in the third carriage."

He indulged me, thankfully. I grabbed my bag, thanked him, and began to hope that everything would be fine when I heard an abrupt whistle behind my back.

"Stop!" yelled Snape, and I saw that Voldemort had somehow managed to fall onto the track between the eighth and the ninth carriage.

"What a drunk," said a woman as she passed by. "It would have been his own fault if he'd been killed…"

_Killed? Do go on, ma'am. Which time were you talking about?_

Snape and the policeman were on their knees, now, trying to pull the corpse back to the platform, while a harried woman, clothes and hair in disarray, ran past them to the first carriage, wildly waving a ticket and pleading for the train not to leave without her. I took the opportunity to get off while the train was stopped, and she boarded safely.

Having successfully hauled the bag out onto the platform, I saw the Dark Lord and Snape peacefully talking to the panting policeman. Rather, Snape was talking, while Voldemort was vigorously nodding. Well, Malfoy had been right to congratulate Snape on our corpse's inability to speak. I finally appreciated that remark.

* * *

**__****_Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I'll correct them. _**We're nearing the end - one more chapter to go. 


	5. Chapter 5

Professor Snape was sitting in the snow, being slowly driven mad by the shrill ringing of a doorbell.

"What do you want from me, Potter?" the Potions Master asked quietly. There was no hope that the arrogant boy would listen.

The gun muzzle was pressed against his forehead.

"_At least the ringing will stop_," Snape thought, feeling almost relief.

The gun fired. Professor jumped to his feet as he woke up, and the boat careened dangerously. He quickly lowered himself to the bench, clutching the sides of the boat with both hands.

"You should be more careful," Harry said indifferently, munching on some bread crust. "We could drown, you know. I'm a very bad swimmer."

"So am I," Snape muttered, trying to calm down. "So am I."

* * *

At least we had no one to fear in Liverpool. That was some luck.

"They would never think to look for us here. And the idea of smuggling the Dark Lord's body out of England is so insane that Scrimgeour would dismiss it immediately." Of course, that's exactly what we were doing, but...

"And he'd only even consider it if he were drunk," Snape agreed darkly.

We spent almost a day in that inn for the simple reason that both of us needed to clean up, heal a bit, and get some sleep. I was secretly glad that we would take a sea route from there, because it would be much easier than dragging a coffin through deep snow.

"Are we going to rent a cabin cruiser?"

"I am afraid we have to buy one."

Snape had spent most of his time in our room studying the map and measuring something with a ruler, even when I was asleep. It made me angry because, for one thing, he should have learned that map by heart long ago, and for the other, when he was hungry and tired, he was twice as malicious.

"Why? We have documents."

"I would use them only in emergency, Potter. And you'd better too. Have you fixed up the coffin?"

"Of course."

I had assembled the coffin in an hour after we had arrived at the inn, and Snape knew that perfectly well. He just couldn't help ordering me around.

_Eh, let him. It won't be long before Scrimgeour takes one of us into custody ... and it won't be me._

Snape bought a motorboat instead of a cabin cruiser. Either he was saving money, or he was afraid that we would not be able to manage a cruiser. I didn't ask, partially because I didn't want to make him cross, and partially because I feared the answer. I liked him better silent, anyhow. During the past month I had learned to keep silent too. Of course my silence wasn't quite up to his standards, but still.

"We shall not stop at Belfast," he informed me dryly on the second day of our sea voyage.

"And what about supplies?"

"We'll acquire both water and fuel in Portnahaven," he snapped without even a glance at me. "From there we shall head straight to Stornoway. If we have extra time, we'll stop."

All this was foreign to me, so I took the map. My spirits sank. He'd told me that we were going to Ireland. I was so eager to see it; I had never been abroad, thanks to Voldemort. On the other hand now, again thanks to him, I was finally travelling.

The cold winter sea was hardly a joyful, cheerful place, but I liked it all the same. I liked that we were moving in the right direction, that it was lightly snowing instead of raining heavily, that even though my feet were wet and had lost all sensation, I didn't have to walk. I didn't have to drag the coffin, care for its wheels, sleep on spruce branches, make fires… And Snape wouldn't be limping again as he was limping then, in the very beginning. All the way to Edinburgh I had to consciously not worry about what I would do if he could not walk.

"Just imagine what a storm'd feel like out here," I blurted out without thinking one night after we had already left Portnahaven. The place had turned out to be a tiny, dirty town on the Scottish island of Islay.

Snape threw a fierce glare in my direction.

"Idiot," he said through gritted teeth, and I figured it out. Speaking ill might draw a disaster to us, and that scared me. After all, I was a wizard, even without a wand. But fortunately, the weather wasn't paying attention to my words. It was nasty even for a winter seascape, but it didn't qualify for a storm.

No, our disaster happened for a completely unrelated reason. One morning I was woken up by cracking and crashing sounds. Heavy smoke was issuing from our stern, and I coughed. I made it to get up, the boat tilted, and the coffin slowly glided to the port side. It lost its lid, and Voldemort tried to catch it without rising.

"Sit down!" snapped Snape, and he began coughing too.

I did not know whom he was addressing - me or the corpse struggling out of the coffin. But Voldemort, who had apparently gone deaf in the afterlife, paid Snape no heed, rose to his full height and immediately fell overboard. I went in after him. What else could I do? Incidentally, I do not recommend taking a swim in the Sea of the Hebrides in January. It's not pleasant.

The cold was so intense it was actually painful, and I was terrified. My head was underwater and I suddenly realized with horror that if the corpse drowned, we would never find it. I opened my eyes, couldn't see anything, flailed, and came up to the surface despite my jacket that kept a big bubble of air around me. Or, perhaps, because of it.

Snape was silently floundering nearby.

It was clear that he could not swim either, because his face was pale and lacking any expression, and he clutched the floating coffin lid like a kick pad, trying to turn it towards the coast.

On the other hand, our corpse was an excellent swimmer. Dumbfounded, I saw him making a beeline for the shore, paddling along gay as you please, doing the breaststroke, of all things.

_He was escaping! _

We had to get the coffin to the shore, too. Clearly, Snape would not get out of the ocean without the lid, so it was up to me to get the coffin.

I made a couple of mighty strokes, clutched its wooden side, and tried to lean on it with my body to get it to float in the right direction. It didn't work. The coffin tilted and began to turn over.

"Dive!" bellowed Snape.

Scared, I released the coffin and sank, feeling a dull thud above me. The coffin had turned over with a smack and missed me by inches.

When I surfaced again, Voldemort was pensively walking along the shore with our sack on his shoulder, while the coffin was floating bottom up near Snape. We had to get out of water soon, or we would freeze.

I reached the coffin and began to push it slowly towards the shore, abandoning all attempts to use it. When I finally reached dry land, Snape had already pacified our corpse and was briskly walking around in the crunching snow, rubbing his arms to get warm.

"Come on, Potter," he said with annoyance. "We are almost there."

I crawled out to the shore and looked at Snape with loathing.

"You're right, I _am_ almost there."

He glanced at me indifferently and went to fetch the coffin out of the water.

"Get up! We need a fire."

Instead of replying, I lay down and closed my eyes. I wanted to sleep. I couldn't bear it anymore.

Snape couldn't bear it, either. He lashed out at me.

"Unbelieveable. Look at you, laying down like a dog. You snivelling ... you only boast of your exploits to your enraptured admirers!" he hissed. "You will meet Death right here without having done a single worthy thing in your life!"

_Right, I'll die right now. I could not care less._

"Fine," he said, and the snow crunched under his boots as he walked away.

_He will leave me here. Without a moment's hesitation. Why am I surprised? He was going to leave me behind in the forest, after all._

With difficulty I half-opened my eyes. Snape put Voldemort in the coffin, closed the lid, and began nailing it down. I was right, he was going to leave without me.

_If I were him, I would not leave him behind, I would put him in the coffin._

But he was nailing the lid down.

_So what if he is?_

I closed my eyes again, and in a while I felt a bit warmer.

_I wonder if he's already left._

"Potter, Potter." Snape was tapping me on the shoulder, and I could clearly hear concern in his voice. "Get up immediately. I have some rather bad news."

_Oh, gods, what now? _

I could not decide whether to laugh or cry.

"What's the bad news?"

"Actually, it's _terrible_ news." His voice was trembling a little, and I opened my eyes.

It looked like he was laughing.

"What?"

"The boat's engine is inoperable, so you will have to rely on your arms to get us the rest of the way."

Now he was openly laughing while demonstrating with his arms what I'd have to do.

"I have to swim?" I rose up on my elbow.

"If you wish, but taking the distance into account, I'd suggest you row."

"Why me? You've got a pair of arms, haven't you? _You_ do it!"

"Potter, if you row without a break for the week we have left, we shall make it just in time."

He was saying all this while choking on his laughter, but since I couldn't see anything funny, I began to think that he was simply hysterical.

"Stop it," I rose to my feet. "Do you know where we are?"

"Most likely this is the Isle of Barra. From here we can either walk, or row."

"Let's walk," I replied quickly.

"The distance is the same, but it is faster by water."

"I don't give a damn."

"Potter, we will not make it in time if we walk. Do you wish to live on these islands till February? Hmm?"

I did not want that. But rowing…

"How far are we from the Isle of Lewis?"

"About a hundred miles."

_Why a week then? And what was this 'rowing without a break' business?_

He was unfolding the map with his usual displeased mien, and I realized that he had actually been laughing. At me.

"I need to dry my clothes."

"Make a fire," he threw to me without a glance.

_The git had deceived me! He had started about a fire as soon as I got out to the shore! But his insults didn't work, so he had deceived me! "You will row without a break." Oh yeah, Professor? How's this? "You will spend the rest of your life in Azkaban when this is over." How's that for an order?_

These thoughts were my only source of warmth and consolation while I gathered firewood and they sustained me while I sat around the fire with Snape, trying to dry our drenched clothes and boots. I had to take my boots off and practically shove them into the fire. In the end I failed to keep an eye on them, and a sole of one boot got scorched, but just slightly, because Snape noticed the smell in time and saved it.

"Professor, it's no good. We can't go by boat," I told him looking at the map. "It's too far, and besides, we haven't any food. Everything went overboard when Voldemort had his little, erm, 'incident.'"

"There are plenty of seaside villages where we can stop. We shall make it, certainly. The main problem is to arrive by the full moon."

Indeed, there were villages. We were able to buy fish, bread, and milk there. We were even able to boil some hot water once a day.

From time to time the coffin began to bob up and down, and whoever who wasn't rowing at the time would sit down on it. Since it was higher than the bench and it was fun to use as an observation point, by the third day it had become my favourite location.

"Potter, you should go into horseback riding," Snape grumbled. "If you can ride this…"

I shot a nasty barb back at him, though for the life of me I could not explain what was so insulting in his suggestion about the horseback riding.

Our greatest fear was bad weather. We were so afraid of it that, like the superstitious fishermen around here, we didn't even talk about the possibility. But it didn't help. It was snowing all the time, and the wind stubbornly kept trying to blow us towards shore. Finally on the fourth day we had ran fast aground between two islands. It was night, the icy water was filling the boat, and there were barely discernible lights far on the shore. We decided that there was no sense spending the night in the boat.

"Should we send him for help?" I tapped with my knuckles on the coffin lid and immediately heard a cheerful knock from inside.

"We cannot set the boat afloat without help!" Snape yelled in response and added something less polite. His words were muffled by the sound of the waves and the howling wind, but I got the point. "Neither of us can swim well enough!"

"But he can!" I shouted, and tapped on the coffin again.

It looked like Snape had got tired of yelling. He pulled out the cord, tied it around his waist and threw me the other end. I was about to tie it around my own waist, but he shook his head and began to tear off the coffin lid with the axe.

_He's releasing the corpse? What does he expect Voldemort to do, pull the boat to shore? _

I knew that Voldemort had been too pushy by half in life, but I had my doubts that he could be that powerful a force in death.

A wave crashed over us, and when it subsided I saw that Voldemort was already getting out of the coffin.

Snape expertly hit him on the head with the lid and put him back. He threw the sack with our instruments into the coffin and, after passing the cord under the lid, quickly nailed it down.

It suddenly dawned on me what his idea was, and I really liked it. Neither of us had any chance in the icy night sea, what with the high waves and snow, and a coming storm. We would drown for sure.

"If we push it into the water first, we'll never mount it again," I yelled, remembering how the coffin had tipped over and had come within inches of doing me harm a few days ago. "We should sit down on it first!"

Snape nodded, and we hefted the coffin and laid it across the boat. Snape gave me one of the oars and mounted the coffin. He'd forgotten the hammer, so I hooked it through my belt and settled behind him. I was not afraid. Of course, we'd be drenched by the time this was over, but I could see the lights on the shore and that meant we would make it.

When we began to shift forward slowly, the boat tilted under our weight, I pushed with my legs, and we smoothly glided into the water. We were immediately covered by a wave, but we managed to keep our balance, pulling strongly with our oars, and fought wind and waves as we headed for the shore of the Isle of Lewis.

Despite the unfortunate landing, I was on cloud nine. We had finally reached the damned island that had invaded my dreams for a month. It was a terrible spot to go ashore. There were forty more miles to cover by foot to Stornoway, and the coffin broken on the shore rocks. While I chased Voldemort around with the axe in my hand, I fell twice, tearing my jeans and bruising my knees, but it didn't matter. Snape calmed Voldemort down with the half of the former lid, and we worked until morning reassembling the coffin by touch, because the drenched torch refused to work. Both of us bruised fingers during the process, but by dawn our corpse was lying peacefully in an incredibly lopsided box that bore no resemblance to a coffin anymore.

Still, he was there, not moving, and not trying to escape. And while our end product was pitifully crooked, the contraption was resting on the same three wheels that Snape had fetched a million years ago during our departure from London. None of our former troubles mattered anymore. I might have been thinking about a previous life. This was it; the final push. We had three days and forty miles of snow-covered track. Just forty? Piece of cake. There was no doubt that we would make it. It was the happiest I'd been in a long time.

I was lying on the coffin and looking at the fire. The storm was over, the sky was clear, and it was snowing lightly. I suppose I fell asleep, but I was not sleeping very deeply, for I heard the fire cracking, Snape rustling with the map, and Voldemort scraping under the lid.

"Are you awake?" Snape had already folded the map and put out the fire with snow. "Let's go."

The coffin rolled down the country road, creaking all the way, the corpse scratching at the lid in time with the wheels. My bruised knees hurt and tried to buckle, Snape was trailing behind, and I considered sticking him in there with Voldemort for a nice doze, but I didn't have the strength to pull them both.

We spent the night in some ramshackle outpost. I only remember that it smelled of cats and there was a draught assaulting my ear all night. The next morning I woke with a massive headache a pounding pain in my left ear, and very sore legs which I'd have preferred be numb.

The weather turned nasty. We were surrounded on all sides by snow, and we had to leave the road for a forest track to skirt round a bay.

I desired only three things in the world: to eat real food, to sleep, and then to die. But we had only the frozen-over bread to eat, we slept in the forest again, and there was no reasonable expectation to die any time soon. Being deathly tired didn't count.

The last day before the full moon was horrible. It was cold at noon, so by nightfall it was freezing. The snow was falling heavier and heavier by the hour, and the corpse turned restive. The coffin was jerking all the time, which made dragging it more difficult, but the main problem was Snape's reaction to Voldemort's activity.

"I suppose he is so nervous because we are doing the right thing this time."

"Of course, we're doing the right thing!" he hissed at me spitefully.

"Why are you so angry?" I was baffled by him. "We're almost there."

"You are _not_ almost there, Potter!" he yelled. "You are just chattering uselessly!"

"What are you doing, then?" I threw him the cord. Let him drag it.

At that very moment, the coffin began whirling on the spot, leaving deep grooves in the snow with the wheels. Snape threw me a furious glance, took the cord that had fallen in the snow, and marched briskly forward dragging down the road the struggling coffin, which was trying to break loose, and leaving me running after him.

To cap it all, we had a chance of being late.

_If we don't get there by the evening, I'll have to stay on this island for another month in the company of this boor, who is not talking to me, and a hopping coffin. _

The track had disappeared, and Snape eventually got stuck in the snow up to his knees.

"My watch has stopped." He sounded heartbroken.

"Perhaps being around you made it suicidal."

I swear, I had no intention of saying that out loud. It just came out.

He looked at me, infuriated, and spat, "You sneaked into my office to steal the potion ingredients, fourth year!"

_Is he mental? As if we have time for this._

I fired back anyway. "I never sneaked into your office! You were just too stubborn to believe me!"

We were pulling the coffin by the cord together now, trudging through the snow, falling in icy ditches every half a mile and bickering spitefully. It drew my attention from my aching ears, the fierce cold, legs that were ready to fall off, and the incessantly jerking coffin.

"You didn't teach us anything!"

"Of course I didn't – you're unteachable!"

"Dumbledore never treated the students like you!"

"And where is he now?"

_Git!_

I stopped abruptly, and the coffin ran into my back. It knocked me into the snow. Snape thumped his foot on it with all his might, pressing it to the ground to prevent it from jerking, and spoke to me with a sneer, looking at me down his nose.

"And you," he said softly and venomously instead of helping me up, "since your fourth year you have been dreaming of using _Cruciatus_ on me and enjoying the effects. And don't you dare to say that this is not true."

I gasped. "You had no permission to get into my head!"

"As if I would. Your face always betrays you."

"And what does it betray?"

"That you are a dunderhead and a good-for-nothing! Why are you lying around? Get up!"

The darkness was quickly descending, but we were almost there. Both my companions were very nervous, but Voldemort at least was mum. I had been an idiot for missing Snape's conversation. I should have cherished every second.

"Come on, come on, Potter, start remembering," he said when I was pulling the coffin out of snow one more time. "Anger gives strength, didn't you know?"

_Now I do._

"You let it slip that Lupin was a werewolf."

"You almost killed Draco Malfoy."

"It was self defence!"

"You stole my textbook!"

"Slughorn gave it to me!"

"But you didn't give it back!"

"Why would I do that? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"You could have fooled me."

_I suppose I walked right into that one._

Then all at once, I saw them. Several vertical stones winked for a second in the distance, and immediately disappeared in the dusk behind the curtain of snow.

"You refused to teach me Occlumency!"

"You got into my Pensieve!"

_God, does anyone visit this place at all? At least in summer?.._

The snow was everywhere. It was in my boots, jeans, jacket, on the coffin, on Snape, and everywhere else.

I made two more steps and again fell into a huge ditch, followed by the coffin.

"Could we use this pit?" I asked Snape. "I can see the stones from here."

"Does it run in your family not to finish what must be done?"

"Then jump here and push it out yourself!"

"No, you've fallen there, you push it out."

For a moment I imagined him marching off with the coffin and leaving me behind in the pit, but I put those thoughts aside.

"Come on, Potter!"

I had no more strength. I could not even lift the coffin. Pushing it out was beyond me.

"I can't."

"I am appalled by your lack of effort!"

"Go to hell!"

He jumped down to me, and we began pushing the jerking coffin up together.

"You taunted Sirius!"

"There should be at least some joy in one's life…" he smirked, and the coffin tilted on me.

_I'm going about this wrong. I need to enrage him, not to make him laugh_.

"So, what have you done with your Pensieve?"

That did it. The coffin practically flew up the slope, Snape shoved it so hard. He immediately leaped out in its wake, and, glared at me without even holding out his hand for me.

_Well, I can get out without help._

I attempted to pull myself up and realized that I overestimated my strength.

"Your empty-headed godfather's death was your own fault, Potter," Snape said venomously, gripping me by the collar and pulling me up.

"Or, perhaps it was yours," I yelled at him as soon I was next to him.

The coffin jerked and fell back into the pit. I think it wanted to join the brawl, but could not and was miffed. We worked together to pull it back up, still fighting. None of us wanted to go back down in the pit and push from there.

"Your father relied on his friends too much," Snape argued.

"Says the man who never had any," I spat back.

"Are you saying that Sirius Black was a good friend to your father? Ha! With a friend like that, who needs enemies?"

"You're just jealous!"

"Of a werewolf?"

"Of him too."

"Or perhaps of a dead Gryffindor mutt?"

"Shut up!"

"Or, perhaps, of your father, who could not find anyone better to marry than a Mudblood!"

"I told you to shut up!" I roared, incensed.

"Don't you dare!"

We yanked the cord with incredible force. The coffin popped free, sprang out of the pit and fell on Snape. Unable to keep my balance, I tumbled on top of it. There was a muffled cry and I slid down in the snow so I could pull the coffin off Snape. One of the wheels accidentally hit him on the face in the process.

He was lying spread-eagled, and there was a lot of blood around him in the snow. I tried to clear the blood away and was about to apologize when he looked at me mockingly and said hoarsely, "Your father was a failure, just like you. That's why he died."

_What?_

"Would you listen to yourself?" If he hadn't been covered in blood, I would have hit him. "I killed Voldemort! And you…"

"And I killed Dumbledore. Pleased to meet you."

_That's it. He asked for it._

"You're going to rot here," I said. My voice was trembling. "On this foul island. And nobody will ever find you. Nobody will even remember your name. And if by some miracle someone even _says_ your name, they'll spit with disgust and forget you in an instant."

Furious, I yanked the coffin, dragged it a few steps and stopped.

"Go on!" yelled Snape, slightly raising his head.

I stood there heaving, looking at the stones that were so close and yet so unattainable, taunting me in the moonlight, foggy with snow.

"Don't you dare stop! Go on!"

I turned away from him and dragged the coffin forward.

_The damned git! I wish you were dead!_ I must have been crying. That wasn't snow hitting my cheeks.

_Come on_, fo_rward! He was about to leave me behind in the forest. He almost left me behind. But only to come here…_

The snow was stinging my face and the gusts of wind grew stronger.

_Why is it blowing in my face? If we'd come by water as we'd planned, we'd be going from the sea and the wind would be at our backs. And now it's in the face… _

I bent my head low and tried to eliminate all my thoughts, one by one, because I could not understand which of them were distracting me and which could still be of use.

_I have to reach those stones. Then take off the lid. Get the spade. Close the lid. I have two nails in my left pocket._

With all my might, I drove any distracting thoughts out of my head, but one was still leaping about in my head with mad laughter, mocking and taunting me.

_I won't be able to dig the grave in this frozen ground. If I only had a wand… _

But I had just the spade. And the axe behind my belt.

I reached the nearest vertical stone and leaned on it exhausted. A human figure emerged right in front of me, and for a moment I felt joy because it could be only Snape, but then I remembered that I had left Snape in the snow and snatched out my axe.

_Malfoy snitched on us. Only he knew where we were going. But why is there just one person?_

It was Mr. Weasley, but I could not feel surprise any more.

"Where is Snape?" he asked quickly.

Face wet with snow and tears, I silently gestured in the direction where I came from. He said nothing and rushed into the snowstorm, while I made a few more steps and noticed a huge pit lightly covered with snow. We could be buried here all together - the coffin, Snape, and I…

_There are two nails. In the left pocket._

_No, first I need to open the coffin. Then I must remove the spade. No need to dig, but I have to open it. _

I hooked the lid with the axe and pushed it off with a foot. Voldemort sat up.

I stared at him dumbly for a few moments, and then I sobbed and hit him in his face with all the strength I had left. There was a terrible crunch, muffled by the howling of the wind. I think I broke something in his face. He fell down.

_Remove the spade. Two nails… no, first close the lid. Close first. _

The lid had become incredibly heavy.

_If it fits, it will be a miracle. I'm not asking for much. Please, let this work. Two nails. In the pocket. In the left one._

Having nailed down the first one with the axe head, I clenched the other in my lips and got crawling along the coffin, dragging the spade in my left hand.

_Find a crack between the planks. Fit the nail in. In the left pocket. No… in my mouth. Fit it in. I'd left the axe in the snow… But I still have the spade. Crawl away… Get up. Done. Raise the spade. Done. _

I could not see anything at all. I swung the spade surprisingly easily and drove the nail home.

_That's it. No more standing up._

I knelt down again and began pushing the coffin into the pit, hoping not to miss it. I could not see anything.

The coffin hardly moved at all at first, but then it began to glide as if over ice, and smashed down into the pit. Exhausted, my legs went out from under me and I tumbled after it. Somehow, I landed on the lid, and I couldn't move.

_I will never get out of here… But then I won't be able to bury it. If I stand on the coffin… Come along, Potter, it's not that deep. Get yourself up._

I didn't even bother opening my eyes. My glasses had been plastered with snow, so there was no need to. Everything was white anyway. And I was white, I suppose. I stood on the white coffin in the white grave and, clutching its white edges, tried to get out into the white world.

Someone had taken my glasses, obviously. I could see nothing but infinite white.

"Potter, what the blazes are you doing down there with the coffin?"

_He had left me in the forest._

_I had left him too._

"You promised to bury me together with him." My lips were numb, but I couldn't help but respond. "I wanted to make it easier for you."

"I am touched."

He pulled me up, and I noticed with surprise that it was colder up there. It was not so windy in the grave.

"Harry, open your eyes." Mr. Weasley sounded strained as he put the glasses back on me. "You must bury him yourself."

I opened my eyes. He must have cast Impervius on the glasses, because snow was flying away from them, instead of settling on the lenses. The snowfall was not that heavy anymore.

"You have a choice of two spades, Potter." Snape was mocking me again. "Which one would you like to start with?"

"Harry, the full moon will not last much longer - you must make haste!" Mr. Weasley was very nervous.

_Mr. Weasley, don't you understand? We made it here to do this. Just the two of us. Well, technically, the three of us. Can't forget the monster we dragged all over Britain…_

"Potter cannot choose a spade, Arthur, but we should not hurry him. His choice might make some deep mystic sense."

_Your sarcasm is duly noted, you git. And when I'm finished with this grave, it will make perfect mystic sense if I grab another spade and hit you in the head with it. After all, I deserve it. In a mystic sense._

_Speaking of "mystic," why am I burying a coffin while you just stand there gawking at me? _

I realized then what I wanted to do after leaving this place - to see that Veela on a Thestral, just one more time. She was worth doing this job. But first I had to finish burying the coffin, and I suspected that Mr. Weasley had never seen a Muggle burial in his life. Honestly, the pit he'd dug for this casket was big enough to hold a mammoth.

Then I noticed that Snape took the second spade and joined me, sighing and rolling his eyes.

"Severus, I am not sure…"

"Nonsense, Arthur. It's only a symbol. Potter could have simply thrown a handful of dirt on the coffin and walked away, and instead he is falling over himself. Just look at him."

"Is that so?" Mr. Weasley sounded pleased. He took my spade from me and started throwing frozen dirt down into the grave.

I took a few steps aside and sat down on a rock while they worked. After a while I lay down and closed my eyes.

_Hermione will be so upset once she calculates how much school I've missed. It is the middle of January, after all._

"Why did you make it so deep?" Snape grumbled, wielding the spade.

"I was nervous," Mr. Weasley sounded a bit defensive. "You were still not here when the moon was up, and it was easier to do something rather than sit around and wait. And I'd never dug anything with this… instrument… before."

"Did you enjoy it?" scoffed Snape.

"Well..." hesitated Mr. Weasley, "I had to melt the snow and ice."

_He used magic here! Damn it all! I should have realized that earlier, because he'd patched Snape up._

"They'll find us," I yelled without opening my eyes.

"No, they won't." Mr. Weasley raised my head and poured something burning and extremely foul into my mouth. I gagged, but swallowed it. "There is so much magic here that our modest contribution cannot be detected. Get up, we shall Apparate."

I was confused. Mr. Weasley was only talking to me, and very quietly.

"What about him?" I asked. Snape was ramming down the earth on the grave, and hadn't heard us.

"Let Malfoy retrieve him. I cannot take both of you at once, Harry. I have only one wand and it is too far."

_I won't leave him behind again. Once was enough. And how can anyone rely on Malfoy?_

"I won't go."

"Arthur, what is the matter?" Snape had grown tired of jumping on the grave, and he came over to us.

"Harry does not want to leave…"

"Do you want me to dig the grave again?" he smirked nastily.

"What for?" Mr. Weasley was taken aback.

"The professor has been threatening all the way to bury me with the corpse," I explained.

"Let's get out from here," Mr. Weasley looked at Snape with distaste and firmly took me by the sleeve. We Apparated ... and left Snape behind.

First I had a good lie-in at the Burrow. Then I had a heated discussion with Scrimgeour at the Ministry, or rather he explained his actions while I declared that the "pain in my scar" had caused a giant memory lapse. I had no inkling of what had happened in the past few months, of which I had managed to inform Rita Skeeter before my visit to the Minister. Then I confessed everything to McGonagall. Dumbledore listened to me attentively from his portrait and occasionally nodded approvingly, which made me conclude that something was fishy about his murder. Perhaps Snape would tell me the truth about it one day.

Having left the headmistress's office, I came across Draco Malfoy, who was very glad to see me.

"My father asked me to tell you that you are a damned lucky prat," he said softly, standing very closely.

I should have passed on the message to Lucius that the elder Malfoy was a damned lucky prat himself, but I had a strong suspicion that Draco had somewhat rephrased his father's message. That is, if there had even been a message in the first place.

"How is Snape?" I asked just as softly.

"What do you care?" Malfoy asked, but closed and opened his eyes slowly, giving me to understand that everything was all right.

_I wonder if he's seen his father's racy Patronus?_

I would have been absolutely happy if not for Hermione. She had no interest in my adventures. The only things holding her attention were the approaching exams.

"You've missed so much!" She was horrified. "_So_ much!"

If I'd had no difficulty keeping up with my studies I would have ignored her, but unfortunately, I did. I didn't want to do poorly on my N.E.W.T.s. The last straw was Professor McGonagall's suggestion that I repeat my seventh year.

I was horrified.

_Am I an idiot? I imagine what the Prophet will say. Even Draco Malfoy, who did nothing all last year except attempt to do away with the Headmaster __will __leave with __his__ class. And I, a "mentally troubled victor", will have to repeat the year._

Ron and Hermione knew. I don't know how, maybe they simply guessed, but when I returned to the Gryffindor common room after a walk, I was met with disgustingly pitying glances.

That night I lay in my bed unable to sleep, and thinking about what I should do. Hermione was an excellent person to help me, but she hardly had time to do all her homework and she was helping Ron. She had no time for me.

No one had time for me.

The next morning, I sent Snape a letter. I told him that they wanted me to repeat the year and there was no way I'd do it. I told him that I would leave him my vault in Gringotts in my will under the condition he keeps his promise to take me to the Isle of Lewis and bury me in the same grave with Voldemort. I told him that I'd obey him. I was sure he would reply. I was giving him a chance to taunt me as he pleased for four months. If it was not tempting enough for him, well then, that was it because I could think of any better plan.

"Idiot," he wrote me the next day.

I was happy.

McGonagall allowed me to leave. She promised to send me all the homework and even visit me sometimes. I could take my exams in June if I wished so, and if not I could return to school in September to repeat the seventh year.

"I assure you, Potter, that there is nothing shameful about it."

_That's what she thinks._

"Not everything goes as planned, my dear. There are unforeseen circumstances, illness…"

_I am healthy! My only problem was that I thought too much about the wrong things. I should have asked him to teach me while we were in the forest; I bet he would have agreed._

Professor McGonagall wished me luck, and that same night I took up residence in Sirius's old digs at Grimmauld Place. The next day Snape arrived at three p.m. sharp, just as he'd promised.

He was still not talking to me much. He called me a dunderhead at every opportunity and even managed to make me cook. I didn't object. After all, he was my guest. But on the whole, things began to go much better than I expected, and in April I attended some classes at Hogwarts especially for the tests.

"What are you going to do after school, Potter?" Snape asked me one night, nose deep in a book.

I didn't know. Actually I'd always wanted to become an Auror, I still wanted it, but Snape would say something nasty on the matter. I knew that he had asked this question on purpose, but I did not want to spoil the evening.

"I was thinking about opening a funeral home."

He raised his head and stared at me for a moment, trying to figure out whether I was joking but I kept my poker face. Though it took me an incredible effort, I did not smile.

"We can do it together. Snape and Harry's Mortuary. I've already come up with our first advertisement: _Quick and thorough burial in location of your choice!"_ Do you like it?"

He was silent. I had specifically suggested my first name so as not to spoil the mood by unpleasant memories. I doubt that he'd ever agree to put his name together with "Potter" under any circumstances. Despite my best efforts, he was just silently observing me, and I could not understand what he was thinking.

_What the hell! He was smiling at Lucius Malfoy. He was even laughing at his jokes. Why doesn't he laugh at mine?_

_By the way, about Malfoy._

"Will you ever tell me whose Patronus was in the forest?"

He blinked and his mouth twitched.

_Of course, now you are smiling!_

"As if you had not guessed yet, Potter," he smirked.

_I had._

"And how about the funeral home?"

"I'll consider it." He'd just buried his nose in the book again when we heard the door bell.

Snape flinched, threw me a panicked look and shut the book. Then he braced himself and slowly rose from the armchair.

"Are you going to open the door?" he asked flatly.

An impressive reaction. I stood up. "I can ignore it, if you wish, but it must be someone from the "old crowd". The house is Unplottable, after all."

He gulped nervously and for a moment I clearly saw distrust in his face. For the first time, I swear, for the first time since November when I had found him peacefully sleeping in the Shrieking Shack, it occurred to me that all this time he had been afraid of me at least as much as I was of him. And maybe even more. If I had made this discovery in January or before that, I'd have been very happy. But now… _"The boy called Harry and the Dark Lord Are filthy, loathsome and foul ..."_ He was afraid of me. He feared me as much as he'd feared Voldemort. And he hated us both for this.

"Let's ignore it." I was careful to be nonchalant, and returned to my chair at the table.

"Nonsense, open the door," Snape said calmly. "It's silly."

There were no traces of his fleeting terror, but he'd trusted me enough to let me see his panic. I took this as a good sign. Perhaps things weren't so broken after all. Unfortunately, the doorbell continued ringing, and I headed for the entrance hall. Snape quietly followed me.

_For Merlin's sake, who__m__ is he so afraid of? He knows very well that Aurors would never find this house._

* * *

"If this is Voldemort, I'll hang myself," Harry said dryly, hastening to the front door. "Ugh, what a detestable sound."

"And if this is you again, _I_ shall hang myself," Snape muttered under his breath, matching Harry's tone. Then he straightened. His command was decisive.

"Open it."

_Finis_.

* * *

**Translator's Notes: ****Thank you everyone for reading! All your comments are very much appreciated and critique is welcome.**

**Just want to say once more that without tremendous help from my betas -**** Belana, Eloriana Gatts, and Kiki Cabou - I'd never posted this translation. **


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